A Midsummer's Journey
by Andrian1
Summary: Hermione's sixth year is ending, but something has happened and she cant go home. Will she be able to adjust to the person she must spend her summer with? COMPLETE
1. safe?

"Grandmother, what sharp teeth you have"  
  
"All the better to eat you" the wolf growled. - Little Red Riding Hood  
  
One day a wolf found a sheep's skin. He wrapped himself in it and sneaked into a sheep pen. He ate a lamb. He was sneaking up on a second lamb when the shepherd caught him. -Aesop's Fables  
  
It was almost midnight; the Gryffindor common room was quiet and dark except for the light of a candle on the table between Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. A chessboard sat on the table, Ron studying it intently before making his move. There, he thought, that ought to do it. Ron had deliberately lost the last three games, though it took more skill to do this than to win, for Hermione was not concentrating.  
  
She sat across from him, her legs curled under her, gazing out the window into the inky darkness. The night was humid and dark clouds had rolled in. Though she could see nothing through the darkness, still she gazed.  
  
He was worried about her. She had taken Harry's disappearance harder than he had. Though he had constantly told her, "if he was dead Hermione, someone would have told us, honest, they wouldn't keep that from us," it just didn't seem to sink in. She had withdrawn and he could not remember the last time he saw her eat, or sleep for that matter. How he wished she would be the bossy Hermione he knew and loved.  
  
Harry had vanished four days ago, the final day of exams. Professor McGonagall had taken he and Hermione into her office and told them that Harry had to leave unexpectedly and not to worry about him. No amount of pleading or badgering had made her reveal anymore than this to them. He had to admit it sounded fishy, but he knew that whatever had happened, Harry was okay. For some reason, Hermione couldn't accept that. But then again he hadn't been the one to find the body.  
  
It had been two weeks ago, but Ron could still feel the eerie shiver run down his spine whenever he thought about it. The three of them had been in the edge of the forbidden forest with Hagrid, working late into the evening, helping him collect some roots that he said he needed for his next Care of Magical Creatures Class. They had heard Hermione's scream, and had ran to find her. He had reached her first, standing there glazed eyed, her mouth in a frozen scream as she stared down at the crumple body of Alicia Greenberg, a sixth year transfer student in Ravenclaw whom Harry had been seeing since term began. Hagrid had grabbed Harry and swung him around before he could see the body. Ron wished he had been so lucky, as he still saw the mutilated naked body in his dreams. A skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, the Dark Mark, had been cut into the white flesh of what remained of her torso. Shivering he pushed the memory away quickly.  
  
Ron sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was about to remind Hermione it was her move when the sound of the portrait door opening made them both turn.  
  
Professor McGonagall, headmistress of Gryffindor entered looking grim. Ron gave Hermione a nervous glance, watching her pale.  
  
"Miss Granger, I need to have a word with you, if you will excuse us, Weasley." Hermione gave Ron a look of intense fear before she arose, following Professor Mcgonagall out the portrait into the hall, her heart thumping loudly.  
  
____________________________(_________________________  
  
Entering into Dumbledore's office, Hermione's knees went weak. Dumbledore arose from his seat from behind his desk as they entered, as did the other two men in the room, Professor Snape and another man who looked familiar.  
  
"Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Nice to see you again Miss Granger," he said pleasantly.  
  
She had not seen Remus Lupin since he had taught DADA in her third year. Still dressed in shabby patched robes, he looked as tired and thin as he had when she had first seen him on the Hogswart's Express. His light gray eyes held her gaze for a moment before she turned her attention to the Headmaster. He was as sober as she had ever seen him.  
  
Fear clutched at her heart, as she began finding it hard to draw breath. Harry was dead, she just knew it, she thought wildly, her nerves on edge, imagining his body torn, mangled. No it was her parents, something had happened to them. She swayed, their faces swimming in front of her.  
  
________________________(____________________________  
  
"She's coming around."  
  
"I can always trust you to arise to the occasion Poppy"  
  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
She opened her eyes to see the professors gathered around looking down at her with concern.  
  
"Just exhaustion I would say," broke in Madam Pomfrey's voice, "and lack of nourishment."  
  
Strong hands helped her into a comfortable high backed armchair. Madam Pomfrey handed her a glass with amber colored liquid. "Drink this," she commanded.  
  
Hermione sipped the potion and felt her face go hot. Pepperup potion.  
  
"All of it."  
  
She gulped down the spicy hot liquid.  
  
"Poppy dear, thank you for reviving our Miss Granger, but it is getting rather late."  
  
Madam Pomfrey frowned at Dumbledore, taking the hint.  
  
"Very well, put see that she gets something to eat and soon." She patted Hermione's hand and then left the office.  
  
"Has something happened to my parents?" she asked abruptly.  
  
"Of course not dear," Professor McGonagall said gently.  
  
"Then Harry's dead," she said dully, expecting the words to make it so.  
  
"Oh no, my goodness no," Dumbledore said kindly, "Harry is fine. Circumstances arose and we had to send him to a safe place for awhile," he paused, "as we are going to have to do to you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
Nodding Dumbledore looked at her kindly.  
  
Her mind raced. A safe place? It sounded as if she was being put into the witness protection plan by the government. Change your name, alter your looks, no contact with those you love, she recited panic starting once more.  
  
"Its all been arranged and you will be completely safe until the next school term."  
  
All summer, she felt her heart sinking.  
  
"Is that really necessary?"  
  
"It is best for all concerned. You must trust us Hermione."  
  
She opened her mouth again but Snape spoke.  
  
"There is a bounty on your head Miss Granger." Snape's voice cut icily through the air silencing her protests.  
  
Not needing to ask why, she could tell he was enjoying every moment of her discomfort. She could hear Draco's lazy voice as he told Harry, "I warned you Potter, to chose your allies carefully. I warned you." Now she heard it directed to her. "You will be next mudblood. Especially since you and Potter are so close."  
  
But she needed to go home. She realized now with desperation, she wanted her mother, to feel safe, to forget the girl she had found.  
  
"Couldn't I be under a protection spell like Harry is at the Dursleys?"  
  
The room went silent for a moment and Dumbledore busied himself by plaiting a strand of his beard.  
  
"Hermione," said Lupin kindly," the type of protection that Harry has been afforded at the Dursleys is mostly do to the fact his aunt is a blood relative of Lily's."  
  
She understood partly what he was saying but it did not keep her silent. "But my parents, they can protect.."  
  
"And how exactly are Muggles going to protect you, as they will probably be writhing on the ground under the Cruciatus Curse, watching as those who come for you torture and rape.."  
  
"Severus!" McGonagall shrieked.  
  
"Though Professor Snape's comment was a bit tactless, I must agree. I am afraid that returning you to your parents will only cause their demise," Dumbledore said quietly. "You will be spending the holidays at a safe place we have arranged for you. I know it will be hard for you, but there is no other option." There was no room for disagreement in the finality of his voice.  
  
"Where will I be going?' she murmured looking down at her hands, trying to squelch the tears threatening to explode.  
  
"Ah, yes" Dumbledore spoke, "where is better left unsaid, but you will be spending your time well protected. Professor Lupin has kindly agreed to be your protector."  
  
"How truly fitting," Snape's sneering voice broke in, "sending the sacrificial lamb to dine with the wolf."  
  
Lupin flushed.  
  
"Severus!" Dumbledore rose from his seat. "Your attempt of humor is not helping the situation."  
  
Professor Mcgonagall took the opportunity to give Snape a scowling look.  
  
Unperturbed by them Snape rose. "Then I will take my leave if you have no more use of me, Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore waved him off muttering what sounded like "boys".  
  
Snape started to the door, then turned and strode over to stand in front of Hermione. Eyes glittering as they fastened on hers, he reached into his robes and withdrew a long thin box and handed it to her. "You will have need of this more than I do. Safe journey, Miss Granger," he said with sarcasm. Turning on his heel he left the office, robes billowing behind him.  
  
She stared down at the box wondering what in the world he had given her.  
  
"If we are done with everything," Professor McGonagall said standing, "Remus, you and Miss Granger need to be leaving." The words made her forget about opening the box.  
  
" Now?"  
  
"Yes, dear, quickly. The sooner you are in the safe house, the sooner we can all breathe easier."  
  
Except me, she thought.  
  
"But my things, Ron."  
  
"Your belongings are already being packed by the house elves and will arrive within the day. And as for saying goodbye to your friends, they have already been informed that your mother has taken seriously ill and you had to leave immediately."  
  
The mention of her mother sobered her and she stood up resolutely, sliding the box Snape had given her into her robes.  
  
She thought of Crookshanks but McGonagall answered her question.  
  
'Your cat will be staying here. He will be well cared for," she said as color rose to her cheeks.  
  
"I am afraid that is my fault," Lupin said quietly. "I don't believe he would be very comfortable in close proximity of me during certain times."  
  
The silent question hung in the air. Could she?  
  
"Well then, " Lupin said brightly, "it was so good to see both of you, Albus," he strode over and shook Dumbledore's hand then moved to Professor Mcgonagall, "and Minerva," he said kissing her on the cheek.  
  
"I wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances" she said her voice cracking, giving him a swift hug. "Take care of our girl won't you," she added in a whisper. He nodded, smiling at her.  
  
Shall we go, Hermione?" he asked offering her his arm.  
  
"Goodbye Professor, Headmaster," she said quietly putting her hand into his arm, feeling as if she was being escorted to Azkaban instead of a safe house.  
  
They walked across the Hogswart's grounds in silence. Just outside the gates Lupin stopped and turned to face her.  
  
"I know that this is hard on you, Hermione," he said gently, "however time is important and I ask you to trust me and do as I tell you, alright?" She nodded, too miserable to answer.  
  
He smiled at her and moved closer to wrap her in his arms. Feeling a bit uncomfortable with this, she started to speak.  
  
"Shh," he said and she looked up at him, and saw his eyes were closed, as he seemed to be concentrating.  
  
They Disapparated into the night. 


	2. storm clouds

I give him curses, yet he gives me love. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still-A Midsummer's Night Dream  
  
They appeared in a wooded area. Hermione shivered as she felt herself come together and wondered what it would have felt like to splinch, leaving part of her body behind, though it seemed that she had left her life behind.  
  
"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Lupin said brightly. "It's only a short walk to where we will be residing. Shall we?"  
  
Holding on to Lupin's arm, she stumbled along in the darkness. Soon, she saw the outline of a gate, and he pushed it open to let her in. The dark image of a two-story cottage appeared. What she could see of the grounds in the dimness looked wild and unfriendly. Lupin took out a key and opened the door. "Lumos diffama tus." Light sprang up from the various lanterns and candles, while the fireplace came to life with a whoosh. "Small, but hopefully comfortable," Lupin said brightly.  
  
The cottage was long and narrow, with one common room that presented a kitchen, and a sitting area in front of a large stone fireplace. A plaid sofa and matching armchair sat before the fireplace. A narrow staircase spiralled up in the corner of the room.  
  
"There are two bedrooms at the top, the bath in between. I have taken the liberty of putting your things in the right one. Considering the late hour, perhaps we should retire and leave it until tomorrow."  
  
All she could do was nod.  
  
He escorted her up the stairs and to her door. Opening it, he said quietly, "I thought you might be more comfortable with a few things from home."  
  
He had thought the things he had gotten from her parents might help her adjust. Going into the Muggle world was not unfamiliar to him, though often uncomfortable. Explaining to her parents the need for her exile was hard, especially since he was not at liberty to tell them everything. He had not told them that he would be the one watching over her for the summer, nor the reason behind the need of going to a safe house. Though left with many unanswered questions, they had reluctantly agreed that it was the wisest choice. Her mother had been grateful that he had suggested personal items for her. She had tried to hide her tears when she handle him the bundle of things.  
  
Hermione's eyes were filling with tears as she looked around the room. On the small four-poster bed was her favourite quilt, one her grandmother had made, blocks made by using scraps of clothing that had belonged to her father. A lilac heart-shaped pillow was lying at the head. Her secret pillow, she had called it when she was younger, a place where she hid her diary, though she had not written in a diary for many years. Her familiar Muggle suitcase was laid across the end of the bed, and she saw a thick, white envelope on top of it. Hurrying to it, she recognised her mother's handwriting. She ripped it open, unaware of Lupin closing the door. ____________________________________________________  
  
She did not appear downstairs until the afternoon. Knowing she was exhausted and upset, he had let her rest. "Tea?" he asked cheerfully, as she sat down at the table. Busying himself with the tea, he noticed her appearance. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes red. Her unruly, brown hair looked tangled and uncombed. However, it was the robe she was wearing that caught him off guard. Dark blue and silky, it was tied at the waist, enhancing her figure. He noticed she had blossomed into a nicely proportioned young woman. It flowed over small, well-formed breasts to a small waist that flared into nicely shaped hips. It made him a bit uncomfortable realising she was no longer the gangly thirteen-year-old he had last seen.  
  
Setting the tea service before her, he buttered a crumpet and passed it to her.  
  
"Did you rest?" he asked politely.  
  
She didn't answer him; instead, she stirred her tea absentmindedly.  
  
"There are some things about this place I must tell you. The house is completely secure from magical detections. Any magic you wish to use while here will be safe. The grounds should be safe also; however, it will be wiser that magic be limited outside. We do not want to push the limitations of the wards too greatly. Of course, one cannot Apparate or Disapparate onto the grounds."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"You may go outside into the garden, but do not go beyond the fenced-off area. The wards that conceal us carry no further than that. Do you understand?"  
  
Again, she only nodded.  
  
Stifling a sigh, he sipped his tea as he wondered how long her unresponsiveness would last. Dumbledore had told him of the situation about the girl and Harry. He realised she was already sinking into depression before this. Even though he knew all too well about depression, he was at a loss as how to help her out of it.  
  
Leaving her to her musings, he went into the garden to read. The garden had once been a thing of beauty, but years of neglect had choked the lovingly arranged flowerbeds. Still, the flowers pushed their heads defiantly through the weeds, filling the air with their heady aroma. A lopsided shed stood near the vine-covered cottage, and a well was positioned within steps of the side door. He sat on a stone bench that was placed to overlook what was once a lily pond, though now it was full of debris, of leaves and dead wood. Now, was nothing more than a murky mud hole. Opening the book he had brought, he sat staring at the pages wondering what he should do.  
  
During supper that evening, he regaled her with stories of the Marauder's and the antics that James and Sirius had gotten into. Trying to keep things light-hearted, he related the story of the time Sirius and James had managed to steal personal letters of Snape's from a girl he was sweet on, and posted them on every door in the Great Hall. After an hour of such tales, he was still getting no response from her. He decided to turn in. "Good night, Hermione. If you should need anything, you know where I am." He felt he should say more, but feeling that he had failed somehow, he went to his room. _________________________________________________________________  
  
The following two days turned out to be no different. Still dressed in her bathrobe, Hermione was unresponsive and said little. Her bushy, curly hair was beginning to look as if tangled beyond repair, and from the beginning odour, she had not bathed. Dark smudges lay under her eyes, giving her a haunted look.  
  
Exhausting his resources of school tales, he told her of his family and the village where he had grown up. Finally he gave up, feeling as if he were talking to a stone statue, and left her on her own as he went outside again.  
  
Damn Moony. Pacing around the yard rubbing his neck, he tried to relive the tension that had been building up the last few days. You are going to have to do something. He had thought of using a Cheering Charm on her, but that would have only been a temporary fix. She needed to come to terms with whatever was troubling her.  
  
He had let her know he was there to listen, not judge. Dropping his guarded manner, he had even hinted at the bleakness that he often found himself in, and the things he did to pull himself out of the melancholy. Her unresponsiveness growing; he was beginning to fear that she might even harm herself.  
  
On the fourth morning as she came downstairs with no apparent change, he decided he had to change tactics. It would be the full moon in a few nights, and he could not bear the thought that she was like this if something unexpected was to happen. She needed to be alert and wary, though they were fairly secure, nothing was for sure.  
  
"Hermione, we need to talk. You need to shake off whatever it is that's bothering you. Do you understand me?" he said firmly.  
  
She didn't answer him, just frowned.  
  
"I have been patient, but this must stop. There are things to be done."  
  
"Just leave me alone," she muttered.  
  
"I have left you alone, and it hasn't helped. Should the world stop because you think an injustice has been thrust upon you?" he asked impassively, stifling the thought of hypocrite.  
  
She looked at him with such hatred he noticed. She blames me for this, he mused. It did not upset him, but it might not help the situation.  
  
"So how long do you expect to wallow in your self-pity and misery?"  
  
"I said leave me alone!"  
  
"That is something I am afraid I cannot do. If you think this a pleasurable way to spend my time, you, my dear, are highly mistaken," he said coolly, though pleased he had gotten a rise out of her.  
  
She went silent once more, staring dully at him.  
  
Inspired, he went upstairs, returning with an armful of books. Setting the stack of books down with a pronounced thud, Hermione looked at him scowling. "We are going to use this time to study. It is part of the agreement while you are here." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. "There will be no argument. I am to enhance your skills, so that you may be able to defend yourself to whatever arises over the next year. As a Prefect and a seventh year, you will need to be on guard constantly. There can never be another case like the Greenberg girl. And I would suggest you get into more appropriate attire, and perhaps a bath," he finished calmly.  
  
Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him. Lupin had been her favourite DADA teacher, and she respected his intelligence and polite, calm manner, but he was an irritant to her right now, pricking her in all the wrong places.  
  
She's acting like a ten year old, he fumed, as she pushed the chair over with a crash. Not bothering to pick it up, she flounced upstairs. If she was ten, he would simply turn her across his knee. His fuming stopped suddenly, images of him turning her across his knee now caused blood to rush to his face and elsewhere. Oh dear. He hadn't counted on that, berating himself for even having such thought.  
  
He set about assigning chapters and spells for her to research and write summaries on, when she had returned, bathed and dressed in her school robes. The sulky look had not left her face as he told her that this evening, she would be expected to perform them for him to grade.  
  
"We aren't in school," she muttered testily.  
  
"And when did schematics stand in the way of learning? I had thought better of you, Hermione." She did not miss the acid in his voice.  
  
Reluctantly, she picked up a book. He hid a smile as he watched her. She was relaxing, and he saw some fire back in her eyes. The books were working; her love of studying would help her with her depression.  
  
That evening, they had their first pleasant meal as she discussed the various charms she had learned about, and had questioned him on things she did not understand. He felt better about her until they had moved to the sitting area to read.  
  
He glanced up from the book he was reading to see the tears coursing down her face once more. Bugger, he felt helpless, and it was turning into a slow anger.  
  
"Hermione," he said softly, "is there something I can do for you?"  
  
"You can let me go home," she pleaded.  
  
Sighing, he put his book down and went over to sit by her. He reached out and took her hand, but she flinched. Withdrawing his hand, he felt the self- loathing surfacing, and tried to oppress it. "You know that what you ask is impossible," he said, turning his face from her as he stood up again, not wanting her to see the emotions raging on his face. "I know how you must feel..."  
  
"How? How could you know how it feels to be trapped against your will, away from those you love?" she shouted.  
  
How indeed, he thought angrily. You are speaking to the master of those feelings. Trying to keep his voice from shaking, he tried to reason with her.  
  
"You know what will happen if you return to your parents. It will make the job for those seeking you so easy..."  
  
"I don't care! I wish they would just go ahead and take me and be done with it!" she sobbed. "It's not like Harry would give himself up for me, even if he wanted to. Sirius nor Dumbledore would let him."  
  
"You foolish girl!"  
  
She looked up in surprise. Never had she heard Lupin's voice so full of fury.  
  
"Do you think this is all about Harry? Damn it all, did you ever stop to think that I, we, don't want to lose you?"  
  
She was startled at the look of anguish on his face as he turned on his heel and headed up the stairs. No, she really hadn't thought about that; how could she when she was so busy feeling sorry for herself, drowning in her own misery? Her mind spinning, she sat staring.  
  
He slammed the bedroom door, grabbing the first thing he could, an oil lamp, and flung it against the wall with a feral snarl, getting no satisfaction as it splintered. Breathing hard, his blood boiling, it took him a moment before he realized the noises coming from him were starting to sound less than human. His lip curled in self-hatred, his now sharper fingernails biting into his palms as he curled and uncurled his hands. He knew this would happen. It was inevitable, this loss of control.  
  
His senses had been heightened and enticed beyond what he could possibly stand. He had smelled the fear radiating from her, and it only exasperated his already churning instincts.  
  
He had been concerned about his ability to keep a calm manner. It was only through a lifetime of concentration and control did he allow the stoicism to overrule the rage that could quickly flow through him at the simplest provocation. While in school, it had helped greatly that Sirius was always quick to anger. He let his emotions emit vicariously through him, especially when Sirius had raged about Snape. Even while teaching, he could maintain his calmness through time alone and the comfort of Dumbledore, who had so much faith in him. How was he to get through these weeks if he allowed her to grate on his nerves so?  
  
Striding over to the bed, he grabbed a worn, black book lying next to his pillow, and flung it open. He sat down staring at the pages until the rage that coursed through his veins began subsiding. Fixing his eyes on the page, and though he knew by heart, he read and reread it. Putting it down at last, he sat there for a long time, with his head in his hands, giving over to exhausted tears that cleansed him. But they could not erase the words that always haunted him. The blood is cursed.  
  
Isolation. Removal of contact from other living souls, be it real by physical barriers or self-imposed by withdrawing from society. I have learned to live in isolation, to set the barriers of indifference with politeness, and I justify my actions in noble cause of safety. But safety for whom? The safety of others, as though my presence would taint them in some fashion or safety for my own soul, so I may not yearn for things that are intangible for me? Are they really so far removed for my taking or does my self-imposed isolation cause it to be so? When the barriers of control fall away and the blood courses through my tainted being, resolving the stoic facade that I must daily impose, and reveal the emotional, savage person beneath, will those who know me not turn away in revulsion? Am I truly selfless or just selfish, falling into a martyrdom that is not real? When I look upon my reflection, why don't I see a man instead of a creature? R.J. Lupin  
Lumos diffama tus. Lumos-illuminate, diffama tus- to spread around 


	3. Hard work and mud baths

DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS OF THIS STORY ARE ADAPTED FROM THE HP SERIES AND BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING THEY ARE BORROWED FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF CREATIVITY. LET THIS DISCLAIMER BE EFFECTIVE FOR EACH CHAPTER SHOULD THIS WRITER FORGET TO ADD IT (LIKE I DID FOR CHAPTER 1 AND 2)  
  
Thanks for the reviews they are greatly appreciate ______________________________________________________________________  
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,-A Midsummer's Night Dream  
  
The rumbling thunder brought him out of his revelry. He went over to the window to gaze up at the approaching storm. It had been an unusually hot summer already, the heat doing little to help the stifling tension that was in the house. He watched the lighting flash orange across the sky. It was too high up to bring the much needed rain or relief to the heat. As another bolt lit the sky, he saw Hermione sitting on the stone bench in the garden. He hesitated, and then went downstairs.  
  
Stepping outside, he smelt the musty air, the heat pressing in on him. Going over to Hermione, he sat down beside her. She did not look at him, but gazed heavenward, still watching the bright lighting flash across the sky.  
  
"We will not get rain from this storm, unfortunately."  
  
She nodded and took a deep breath. "When I was little, I was terrified of thunderstorms. I would cry out and my parents would come to me and comfort me, telling me that the noise was only the angels celebrating. It gave me some comfort to think of that, but the real comfort was knowing they were just across the hall and would always come when I cried."  
  
He was silent for a moment before speaking softly. "I never was afraid of the storms. I rejoiced that there was something out there wilder than me." He gave a dry laugh, waiting for some response then continued. "Everyone is afraid of something. Whether it is of things real or those unknown. There is nothing to be ashamed of, even if you cannot face your fears. Knowing your fears and the breadth of your tolerance for them is what's important. And when you cannot bear them alone, that's what friends are for."  
  
Sighing, she said, "I guess I just wanted one more summer of that. The safety of being at home with my parents. I know they cannot realize what's going on with the Dark Lord, and I wanted to forget about things for a while. It would have been my last summer at home. I just think I wanted to be a little girl again before I had to grow up."  
  
They sat in silence for a while before she spoke again. "Professor?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Please forgive me for the last several days."  
  
"Nothing to forgive," he said gently.   
  
"I know I was being a bitch. I took it out on you."  
  
"That's what I am here for," he said, smiling.  
  
She looked at him and a small smile flickered across her face.  
  
"I want you to realize that I am your friend before all else, and am here for you in that capacity," he told her, holding her gaze.  
  
She nodded and looked toward the sky once more.  
  
"And I would like you to call me Remus."  
  
Again she nodded.  
  
He reached out, wanting to give her a reassuring touch, but remembering earlier, he withdrew. It was she who reached out and closed her fingers around his hand. They sat in silence while the storm passed overhead. _________________________________________________________________  
  
"I noticed there were some spades and clippers in the shed out back. I think the garden could be very lovely if we could get the weeds under control," she said over their breakfast. " 'Hard work is good for what ails you' my grandmother would always say."  
  
"She sounds like a wise woman," he said, glad for her brightened mood.  
  
"And I would enjoy the company, if you would like to join me." He knew it was her way of apologising once again.  
  
"I would be honoured."  
  
She looked at his robes dubiously. "It is really hot today."  
  
"Really? I hadn't noticed," he said, fanning himself with his hand.  
  
She laughed.  
  
"I take the hint. I think I might find something more comfortable for playing in the dirt," he said, heading back upstairs. He had not failed to notice her attire when she came down this morning. She wore a light green shorts outfit, the shirt short, barely brushing the top of her shorts. He had accidentally sliced his finger cutting the bread when he had first seen her. Charming, he thought, chiding himself.  
  
When he appeared back downstairs, she had to keep her mouth from falling open. He was wearing a pair of loose, worn jeans, with frayed edges and holes in the knees and a white tee shirt. The contrast from his grey robes which made him look washed out, to the bright white of his shirt, which made his light brown hair seem shiny, and she noticed, for the first time, the gold highlights dancing in it. Where had the gray gone? Though thin, he was very lithe and solid looking in this new light. He was nice to look at, she thought, why hadn't she noticed it before? He shuffled a little and she realized she was staring rudely at him.  
  
"What, I wouldn't fit in the Muggle world?" he asked teasingly.  
  
"Oh, yeah..." she blurted with a bit more enthusiasm than she had meant to.  
  
He flashed her a smile and winked, causing her to flush and fiddle with the gardening gloves she had donned.  
  
They toiled in the garden all morning, fighting with the unrelentless hold of the weeds that had overtaken the garden. She stole hidden glances at him, marvelling at the difference in his looks, as he picked up limbs and rocks and threw them over the fence. Not only did his clothes make him look different, he looked healthier, younger than she had thought.  
  
He took her instructions quite well until she asked him to remove a stump.  
  
"But it's been here longer than the house has," he argued, looking at it disparagingly, doubtful at his ability to remove the large embedded thing without magic.  
  
"Afraid of a little hard work?"  
  
He scowled at her and picked up the shovel and began digging.  
  
She hid her laughter as she kept hearing his muttered curses over the next hour.  
  
He was aware of the glances she kept casting at him all morning. It made him self-conscious yet flushed. Hoping that he wasn't as obvious, he leaned on the shovel to wipe the sweat from his face, enjoying the view as she bent over pulling hard on some ironweed that did not want to be uprooted. Through half closed eyelids, his gaze moved over her form, the well-sculpted legs up to the firm, round bottom, which was much enhanced by her position. Her thin cotton shorts were clinging to her from perspiration, and he could make out her undergarments, noting they were patterned with small pink roses. Bloody hell! He jerked out of his revelry and threw down the shovel with a clatter, causing Hermione to jump and turn around to see him striding hurriedly over to the well. Pulling the bucket up by hand, he dumped the water over his head.  
  
Thinking the stump was getting the better of him, unaware of his musings, she smirked and went back to her task.  
  
What the bloody hell are you playing at, Moony old boy? Damn, it was going to be hard enough being alone with her when he was fighting off his wolf urges this week, he surely didn't need his lust getting the better of him, wondering where it had came from.  
  
Er, can I remind you that you are human, you git? he heard Sirius's voice speak. So often when he had been down or belating his inhuman nature, Sirius was quick to kid him until he got mad or laughed. But there had always been wisdom to the words he used. He just hadn't been this near the opposite sex for a while, and he shouldn't have been staring.  
  
They moved on to tackle the murky pond together. Hermione sighed and stretched, giving him a smile.  
  
"Much more relaxing than practising hexes all day." She sighed again, contently.  
  
"Are you saying that I am a taskmaster?' he asked in mocked indignation.  
  
She smiled, knowing he had tried to keep her busy to keep her mind from sinking into deeper depression.  
  
"Well, now that you mention it, you were beginning to remind me of Professor Snape."  
  
He stood with his hands on his hips, contemplating her. "I don't think that was a compliment, but I will take what I can. Well, I cannot let this opportunity of teaching pass." He bent down and tugged a twisted, green growth out of the mud.  
  
"Now then, here we have the screwberry root." Kerplop! A glob of squishy, dank mud hit him full in the mouth.  
  
"What the h.." he started, then he heard the muffled giggling.  
  
Hermione was standing there, trying hard to stifle her laughter, her hand holding another glob of smelly mud.  
  
"Miss Granger," he said, trying hard not to swallow mud and laugh at the same time, "I am afraid that, if we are to study that interesting mud you are holding, you too will have to a closer look." He dodged the next glob that flew at him, as she burst out laughing and tried to get away. He caught the side of her shirt as she ran and they both slipped in the soggy ground. Scrambling to get to her before she found her feet, he grabbed her shoulder with one hand and brought a large glob of mud up to her face.  
  
"No!" she squealed, still giggling.  
  
"Come now," he said in mocked anger. "If I can wear a mud mask, surely you can." He touched it lightly to her face.  
  
Splat! She had grabbed more mud and splattered him in the chest this time. "OK, you little vixen," he growled, smearing her face with the mud.  
  
It took them a full five minutes to quit laughing. Leaning against each other, he reached up and rubbed his finger down her nose. She was still giggling when she reached over and drew a small circle in the mud on his cheek. But then their eyes locked. His had gone very smoky and he held her gaze with them.  
  
He looked at her smiling face, thinking it was quite lovely, glad that she was healing. Though she would never be considered a great beauty, he was drawn to her soft brown eyes, which reminded him of a doe, gentle and velvety. The heart-shaped face was flushed under the mud, and her lips were full and enticing. Slowly, he moved in closer to her.  
  
He's acting like he is going to kiss me, she thought, amazed. But then, as quickly as it started, it passed as he got to his feet offering her his hand.  
  
Smiling, she took it, thinking she had just imagined the moment as they headed back to the house to clean up. Before they went in, he broke the silence. "You know, I now see why women put mud on their faces. I do believe my pores are clearing as we speak," he said, so seriously that they both burst into laughter again.  
  
The physical labour agrees with you Moony old boy, Remus mused to himself as he cleaned up in the bathroom. He peered closer at his reflection. "Merlin's beard!" he hissed. He knew what he had forgotten to do over the last week, being so preoccupied with trying to settle Hermione in and helping her to adjust. The age-enhancing potion that he took daily. And... he groaned, hurrying into his bedroom, knowing what he would find. Bugger, he had forgotten to obtain a fresh supply while at Hogwarts. He picked up the bottle he had, noticing it would only do him maybe two weeks, not the seven he still had left here. His concern had been with the Wolfsbane potion, and true, this was not life-threatening, but it could make things more uncomfortable for Hermione.  
  
Picking up a small mirror, he sat on the bed and looked at his reflection. His hand moved over his smooth face, pale gray eyes, the colour of stream washed stones, staring back at him. The lines around his eyes were visibly diminished and the gray in his hair was gone. His face was fuller, with a healthy glow.  
  
He had been taking the aging potion since he was sixteen. Looking much younger than his classmates, he had begun to wonder about his looks when Dumbledore and the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had taken him aside and explained. He had not known that the curse of agelessness was part of his affliction. Regeneration, they had told him. His body would repair itself quickly and most common ailments, such as colds would never trouble him. And youth. They had suggested that he age his outer appearance so questions would not arise, since his chronological years and his appearance would soon outstrip each other.  
  
This new development had horrified him. The thought of being almost an immortal, to live with the hell of the lunar cycle forever, and the longer he lived, the more the chance he may inflict his disease on another human being. And to watch his friends and love ones grow old and die while he remained youthful and alone was too much to fathom. He had expressed his fears in a tumble to Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, as they tried to calm him down. Trying to make light of it, they reminded him how much effort and finance went into beauty products for Muggle and witch alike in the journey to stay young and beautiful. They can have it, he thought bitterly. It was a secret he had not shared with anyone, not even his closest friends.  
  
Well, there was nothing to do about it now, unless he could water down the potion. If Hermione noticed and questioned him about he would just explain. Must be why I have been prone to saluting her so often today, he thought wryly. Ah, the lust of youth. He couldn't help but grin. __________________________________________________  
  
Thump. Rolling over, she heard the noise again that had awaken her. Thump. Getting her bearings, she got out of bed and realized the noise was coming from outside. Padding over to window, she gazed out into the back garden. Thump.  
  
Scanning the area she saw what, or rather who, was making the noise. Lupin. He was splintering wood. What time was it, she wondered? It had to be late. The mugginess of the night enveloped her and she quietly opened the window, not wanting him to know that he had woke her.  
  
As the window swung open, the aroma of the garden flowers and the hint of rain engulfed her. Leaning out, she got a better view of him as he splintered the wood. He had taken off the shirt that he had been wearing and was dressed only in jeans. She saw that his back was well formed and every muscle was outlined as he swung the axe, bringing it down with tremendous force each time. Sleek rippling muscles flowed down to the top of his jeans, where his waist tapered nicely into thin hips. In the bright three-quartered moonlight she could see the sweat running down between his shoulders blades and when he stopped to mop his brow, she realized she had been holding her breath. His form was beautiful, she thought. Her mother had always loved art, being a Sunday painter herself, and had always taken her to museums and galleries. The love of the classical to modern art had been one area that she and her mother shared, for her father always guffawed that it looked like one-armed, blind men had created most art. But here was a body worth looking at, she mused, wondering if his backside and legs were as nicely sculpted as his back.  
  
Feeling a tightening in her stomach, she blushed. She was getting aroused watching him as he swung the axe, swiftly and with such deftness it was hard to distinguish when he set a new piece on the block to chop. Feeling foolish, she wanted to look away and go back to bed, but stayed sitting at the window until the pre-dawn when he finally decided to lay down the axe and head inside.  
  
He knew she was watching him. It had taken all his self-control not to glance up at the window where she was. He had heard the window open, though a normal man would not have. His sensitive hearing had alerted him to the slight movement. He worried a little about her seeing him, perhaps wondering why he was up all night, but then again, she already knew what he was and that insomnia was a burden of his kind.  
  
So was the heightened sense of awareness of her. It helped little that the cottage was so small, the walls so thin. He could tell when she turned over in the bed each night, identifying each part of her body by the squeak of the springs of the mattress. And what was worse, after this afternoon seeing her in her shorts outfit, he was now seeing each part of that body as he heard the soft movements. The blood had rushed through his body, making him feel like a schoolboy, quick to boil when looking at a pretty girl. Damn, he had gotten so worked up, it was either a choice of attending to his lust by hand, which he had felt too foolish to do, or work it out. The next occupants of this place would have wood for several winters.  
  
O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight, From these that my poor company detest: And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.  
Excuse the mirror gazing, but it was a vehicle to reveal Lupin's secret. "Werewolves are immune from aging and from most physical disease due to the constant regeneration of their physical tissues. They can, therefore, be virtually immortal." From crstyalinks.com Again the verses are borrowed from A Midsummer's Night dream. Thanks Allison and Araina. 


	4. The time of the wolf

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters..sigh AN/ thanks to all those who reviewed.feeds the old ego Zebra hope this is fast enough for you lol  
Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;  
  
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;  
  
And then the moon, like to a silver bow  
  
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night  
  
Of our solemnities.- A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Running a hand through his hair, Lupin grimaced as he lifted the vial to his lips. The Wolfsbane potion held true to form. No matter how often he took it, the taste did not improve. Shuddering, he swallowed, and quickly downed the rest of the potion. He arose and began pacing, concern knotting his shoulders as he walked. How he hated the prospect of turning into the wolf with Hermione in the house. Though he checked, and rechecked the cellar that he would shut himself into tonight, reassuring himself there was no possibility of escape, he was edgy about the whole affair.  
  
Running his hand through his hair once more, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror by the stairs as he strode past. My god, he thought. He glared at his reflection. I already look like a damnable creature, he mused, as he looked at his hair standing up in every direction. His eyes were already starting to change, seeing the yellow tinge around the light gray irises, the narrowing of the pupils. No one would have noticed these subtle changes unless they were gazing intently into his eyes with familiarity. As if that had happened in the last ten years, he thought cynically. At least the charm he applied daily kept the hair on his face and body from growing thicker.  
  
"Headmaster, are you sure about this?"  
  
"I would not have asked this of you if I had any doubts."  
  
"But surely someone else would be more appropriate."  
  
"I have confidence in you, Remus."  
  
He stared down at his hands, not wanting to protest further.  
  
"Why do you question my judgement?"  
  
Knowing that Dumbledore guessed his doubts, he remained silent.  
  
"I realize that this task may not be what you desire, but it is very important."  
  
"I did not say it wasn't important. Every life is valuable."  
  
"Except yours?"  
  
Again, he did not answer, but his lips curled slightly.  
  
Dumbledore walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I could not risk what may happen to you if I sent you where I know your talent desires to be, even if you could. Your soul is more precious than that, no matter what the state of your life."  
  
What had Dumbledore been thinking? Combing his hair with the comb he had summoned from his room, he tried to fathom what the Headmaster had been up to. As part of the Order, he was always willing to do whatever it took to further the cause against Voldemort, but this? He would rather be out hunting those who sought the bounty on her head than to risk harming her more than they might.  
  
He often envisioned being captured by those who did not know what he was, and turning into the creature, to kill and maim the lot of them. Ripping their necks, watching the blood pulse from the torn jugular.  
  
Shuddering, he looked again at his reflection, noting the pure terror on it. Moony get a grip, it's just the day talking. Taking deep breaths to steady his heart and hands, he started getting breakfast, and preparing for the night. ________________________________________________________________  
  
Tension filled the air between them as they poured over books; the unsaid concern about the night spoke volumes. The last two days had passed pleasantly. In the mornings, they had worked in the garden, and spent the afternoons going over spells, both offensive and defensive. She was quick to learn the advanced hexes and charms, and he took pleasure in teaching her. He found her sharp mind and hunger for knowledge as enticing as her attire.  
  
Keeping his eyes, and thoughts, off the becoming shorts outfits she appeared in daily had taken a lot of self-control and inner berating. It's just the pull of the time of month, mingled with the fact of the lack of the aging potion, he argued often. Ravishing his charge was not an option, hearing Snape's knowing voice. I told you not to trust a werewolf.  
  
"Have you forgotten Headmaster, what he and his damn friends tried to do to me?"  
  
"I have not grown senile yet, Severus."  
  
"And yet, you would trust this creature to watch over a student alone."  
  
"This creature happens to be present."  
  
Snape gave him a loathing look, as if he had stepped in something unpleasant.  
  
"Childhood grudges have no place here, Severus. Remus is my choice."  
  
"Very well, I will stand by your decision, Dumbledore. Might I suggest," he turned toward Lupin eyes glittering maliciously, "that should you infect her with your evilness, do the decent thing and kill her."  
  
Closing his book, Lupin stood up. He needed to keep busy, and this wasn't working. "It's a fine day outside; I do believe laundry is the order of the day."  
  
"I don't know how. I mean, I do laundry at home, we have electrical appliances there, but the house-elves always did the laundry at school."  
  
"A lesson, then," he said, winking at her. They proceeded to go outside, where he filled two large metal tubs with water. Adding soap to one, he picked up some of his clothes and put it in. "It is just three simple charms," he explained, "hardly a nod in the right direction. Abluo," he said, pointing his wand at the first tub. The water began churning as it gyrated the clothes. "Eluo." The clothes flipped themselves over to the tub that held the clean water. "Amoveo unda." Water dripped from the clothes as they twisted and fell nicely in the basket.  
  
"And that's it?" Hermione laughed, glad for the diversion from the tension.  
  
"A most serious endeavour," he said teasingly as she left to get her laundry.  
  
Gathering up her clothes, she noted the school robes she had worn her first night here lying in the corner. Picking them up, she felt a lump in the pocket. Snape's box. She had forgotten about it. Pulling it out, she opened it. An exquisite letter opener lay on soft black velvet. Shaped like a miniature sword, the hilt had been crafted into two intertwining serpents, ruby eyes glittering. Why had he thought she might need. Then it dawned on her, dread flooding her. It was pure silver. ________________________________________________________________  
  
Once the pain of the transformation was complete, he sighed wearily, and curled up on the cold, stone floor. He was very thankful to the Wolfsbane potion; he was glad that he could at least keep his mind. Sleep is the best remedy, he reminded himself, and tried to push away thoughts of Hermione as he drifted off.  
  
The wolf was running through the forest, following the smell of fear. Fear was the sweetest aroma to him, giving him a sense of power. In the brilliant light of the moon, he overcame his prey, barrelling down upon it, snapping its neck with one quick movement. The warm blood of the hare splayed over his muzzle as he drank deeply. Moving on to a stream, he lapped greedily at the clear, sparkling water, and then he saw her reflection. She was standing on the opposite bank, her soft brown eyes looking quizzically at him. Her coat was silver and thick, and he loped across the stream toward her. She shied away, but stopped, trembling, allowing him to come nearer. Coming close, he sniffed in the heady scent of her, alluring, inviting. She yelped as he overcame her, surrendering to the thrust of his domination.  
  
Afterwards, they ran through the fields, frolicking, biting at the other's front legs, until they grew weary and sat down on a grassy knoll, overlooking a small cottage. Looking at him, she seemed to smile, and lifted her muzzle to the sky. A low, mournful sound emitted deep within her throat, and the music echoed throughout the night.  
  
NO! The werewolf, Lupin, jerked awake. He still heard the howl, heard it reverberating off his being. He couldn't; think. remember who you are; don't let this happen.Oh god, he moaned inwardly as he lifted his muzzle and let out a piercing howl.  
  
The howl awoke her with a jerk; she had been sleeping fitfully anyway. Oh my, what happened? Lupin had explained everything to her that evening, over dinner, before he had went down into the root cellar. The Wolfsbane potion would allow him to keep his mind, to prevent the urges. If it worked, it would be a quiet night, but again, she heard the mournful sound. It echoed again and again. Climbing out of bed, she crept down to the common room, going over the trapdoor near the stove. She couldn't go down there; she knew it was much too dangerous. The howling subsided, but now she heard the snarling and yelps of pain, and she knew Lupin was biting himself. Stifling a sob, she hurried back upstairs.  
  
Unable to get the thought out of her mind, she headed into Lupin's room. She wanted to know more about this affliction of his.  
  
Hermione paused, her breath coming faster as she looked around Lupin's room. She felt as if she had just crossed some unfathomable chasm, as she invaded his privacy. He wouldn't mind, she told herself. Keep busy, chase away the invasion of troubling thoughts; she had to keep thinking, learning. Searching though his stack of books, she found nothing.  
  
Then she saw it, lying on the bed stand. Picking up the book, she read the title, Dark and Dangerous Creatures of Black Sorcery. Lighting the candle next to the bed, she trembled as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She didn't have to search the book for what she was looking for, as it fell open to the section when she laid it in her lap. Lycanthropy.  
  
She read through the symptoms and the ways one becomes a werewolf. It was very familiar, as she had completed a lengthy essay for Professor Snape in her third year on werewolves. It had been his way of trying to expose Lupin for what he was.  
  
Reading through the account of werewolves and their destruction, her eyes fell immediately on an underlined reference as she turned the page.  
  
Damnation. A person who becomes a werewolf against his will (birth, curse, or bite) is not completely damned until he tastes of human blood. Once he does, his soul is eternally damned and nothing may redeem him. Even without tasting of human blood, however, as long as the taint lays upon the immortal soul, it cannot enter Heaven, and will remain chained to the mortal plane upon death.  
  
The words 'eternally damned' had been underlined so many times that the page beneath it had the imprint of the ink. She did not remember finding this information when she had done her essay. Now she understood, more clearly, the intense fear he had of somehow infecting or killing another person. Tears flooding her eyes, she clasped the book to her chest as she rocked. Oh Remus, how terribly alone you are. ________________________________________________________________  
  
Coming up from the cellar mid-morning, he stumbled over to the table. "Water," he gasped hoarsely. He managed a weak smile as she handed him the glass. Hands trembling, he downed several glasses before resting his elbows on the table, face hid in his hands.  
  
Fighting back tears as she watched him shake, taking in the torn blood caked robes, she felt emotions flooding her: pity, anger, helplessness; her heart ached for him. Finally, he looked up. Noting the concern on her face, he managed another smile. "I just need to rest, the night was. very taxing."  
  
"I understand," she murmured, as he rose unsteadily from the chair. As he headed upstairs, she called to him, "I am here should you need me, you know where I am."  
  
Touché, he mused.  
  
Wearily lying down on the bed, he was ashamed that she had to see him like this. Rolling over, he caught the aroma on his pillow, like warm earth, a light citrus mingled with musky roses and autumn leaves. Hermione's scent. Too exhausted to wonder why she had slept here, he hugged the pillow close, comforted, and drifted into sleep.  
  
Even a man who is pure of heart  
  
and says his prayers by night  
  
can become a wolf when the Wolfbane blooms  
  
and the moon is full and bright.  
  
______________________________________________________  
  
Abluo-wash, Eluo- rinse, Amoveo unda-remove water The excerpt Hermione read was taken from the web site: Crystalinks.com Even a man who is pure of heart  
  
and says his prayers by night  
  
can become a wolf when the Wolfbane blooms  
  
and the moon is full and bright.-Curt Siodmak 


	5. You do impeach your modesty

DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN THEM. AN/ THANKS FOR THE LOVELY REVIEWS. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND THANKS TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS --------------------------------  
You do impeach your modesty too much,  
  
To leave the city and commit yourself  
  
Into the hands of one that loves you not?;  
  
To trust the opportunity of night  
  
And the ill counsel of a desert place  
  
With the rich worth of your virginity.-A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
"I have business I must attend to today," he said, over their morning tea.  
  
Looking at him startled, she said in disbelief, "I thought we couldn't leave here."  
  
"I'm afraid you cannot," he told her, looking sympathetic. "It has been arranged that I report in every fifteen days. As we could not have owls leaving from here, there was a neutral place appointed," he explained.  
  
She looked at him with apprehension, wanting to voice her concerns. He answered them for her. "Should I not return, you will stay here. In another fifteen days time, if the Order has not heard from me, someone will come for you. I am confident in your ability to take care of yourself, and I know you have the courage to face whatever may happen."  
  
"How will I know the person?"  
  
"He will be our Secret Keeper," he said without thinking.  
  
"Oh, I don't suppose you can tell me who that is?"  
  
Shaking his head, he smiled at her, wondering what she would think if she knew who the Secret Keeper was. Snape had offered to be their secret keeper without hesitation. Lupin was not surprised at this. Though the bane of many students, he knew Severus had a ferocious protective nature when it came to them. Even if he showed favouritism to his own house, what head of house did not, he thought of each child who passed through his classroom as his responsibility, for their safety as well as their lessons. He had bemoaned Hermione often enough to Lupin when he had last been teaching there to realize, though Snape would never have let her know, she was one of his favourite pupils. The only one that Lupin had doubts about was Harry. Though he knew that Snape would die to protect the boy, the animosity that he had felt for James had been transferred to Harry.  
  
"Is it far, this place you must go to?" It had only been a few days since his time in the cellar. He still looked exhausted.  
  
Warmed by her concern, he shook his head. "A couple hours journey. Just a nice walk," he assured her. ___________________________________________  
  
By noon, the sky hung heavy with the scent of rain. The air was sharp and icy winds whipped his robes, though he was glad for the relief from the humidity. Quickening his pace, he hoped to complete his business and return to the cottage before the storm hit.  
  
Within the hour, he saw his destination. A small house stood on a knoll, chickens scratched in the yard, and he heard the lowing of cattle from a small, gray barn. Stepping over an old dog, which had only lifted his head when he approached, apparently too lazy to move, Lupin rapped at the door. Opening a crack, an eye peered out at him.  
  
"What you want?" said a low baritone voice.  
  
"I am here to see Mr. C.R. Wisenbery. I was informed he had a cow to sell." He grinned as he thought of the ridiculous code.  
  
"He might, what colour cow were ye looking for?"  
  
"Any colour will do, but I do have a fondness to brown ones with pink spots."  
  
The door opened wide. "Come in, come in." Remus found himself shaking hands with a burly, aged wizard with salt and pepper hair and beard. Chesire Wisenbery towered over him, with a girth that would have made Hagrid proud. "Remus Lupin, glad to meet ye."  
  
"Likewise, sir," wondering if he would still have the use of his fingers after the crushing grip.  
  
"Anna, love, company's here," Chesire roared. A white haired witch came scurrying into the room, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Barely five feet tall, she was every bit as wide as her husband, with a smile that beamed from ear to ear. "Welcome son, welcome. Chess dear, take the young man's cloak. I'll be right back with tea. Sit, sit." She bustled out of the room.  
  
Sipping the strong tea, politely declining the delicious looking biscuits, he listened as Chesire regaled him with stories of his days when he and Dumbledore had been 'thick as thieves' as he put it.  
  
The house grew dim as the storm approached, and they all jumped when the house shook as lighting struck nearby. "Oh my, that was a close one," Anna gasped.  
  
Standing up, Lupin apologised. "I am afraid I really need to be going."  
  
"We won't hear of it dear, will we Chess, you will be caught in the storm."  
  
"It will be refreshing after the heat of the summer," he assured her, looking at Chesire for help, realizing that he had not told his wife of the situation.  
  
"Anna, love, Mr. Lupin does have pressing business. Be a dear and get those packages I have in the pantry for him."  
  
When she had left, he spoke to Lupin in a low voice. "Everything going alright? Any trouble?"  
  
"Everything is excellent."  
  
"Well, glad to hear that," he said, handing him the packages Anna had brought back in. Two thick envelopes lay on top, and he tucked them into his robes.  
  
Opening the door, he and Chesire eyed the orange-gray sky. He doubted he could avoid getting caught in the storm. Turning back to them, he shook hands, thanking them for everything, and then his eye fell on the mantel above the fireplace. Thinking of Hermione, he posed a question. ___________________________________________  
  
Hurrying through the wood, he heard it coming, beating on the leaves and ground. Hail. Wincing as it struck him, he stopped between the trees. Pointing his wand up, he murmured a few words. The limbs of the trees intertwined, making a canopy, giving him some relief from the pelting stones. Shivering, he hugged himself as the temperature dropped quickly. Soon, the hail stopped and he continued, slipping on the icy balls that littered the forest floor. Stopping dead still, he sniffed the air. He had caught the whiff of something, though he couldn't place it, that didn't belong in the forest. Lifting his head, he breathed deeply, trying to catch the odour once more, but with the whipping wind and the heady aroma of damp earth, he gave up. Maybe he had just imagined it.  
  
Barely going a hundred yards, the sky opened up, dumping rain on him. Within moments, he was soaked. Barely able to see through the torrential downpour, he grew irritated. Bollocks, he would either have to find shelter, or drown.  
  
Hating the thought of leaving Hermione alone, the fear she might feel at his delayed return, he had one other option. He could Apparate to the spot where they had arrived that first night. It was less than a mile to the cottage from there, not the three or four he still had to travel.  
  
Wary about using strong magic, the threat of detection, he debated with himself. Surely the storm would interfere with emanations tonight, he finally decided, Disapparating.  
  
Opening the cottage door, he heard 'Remus, thank god' as she hurried over to him, relief clear on her face. Grinning, he was glad he had chosen to Apparate, her welcoming smile warming him, though his teeth were still chattering. Sitting the packages down on the table, he pulled out the envelopes, handing her one. She opened it, puzzled. A squeal of delight escaped her as she saw the many smaller envelopes inside, recognising the handwriting: her parents', Ron's, Harry's and Ginny's.  
  
"Where, how?" she gasped.  
  
"Our post is being sent to Hogwarts, where they are forwarding to the house I visited today," he explained, smiling at her delight. She threw her arms around him, giving him a swift hug.  
  
"Oi, Remus, you are wet."  
  
"Really?" he asked, looking at the puddles gathering at his feet.  
  
"Go change, I'll put these away."  
  
Waving his hand, he shooed her away. "Go enjoy your letters, it's late. I will deal with these after I dry out." Still beaming, she ran upstairs.  
  
Dry now, in his pyjamas and bathrobe, he sat on the couch, sipping hot chocolate and turned his attention to his post. A short note from Dumbledore wished them well, and reminded him that he could use this opportunity to hone Hermione's skills. Movements with the Order were going smoothly, and he should not be concerned. He gave a small snort, surmising that Dumbledore was still trying to placate him.  
  
Still cold, he pulled the small throw off the back of the couch over him before turning his attention to the post from Sirius.  
  
Remus, How are matters with you? Considering these damn circumstances, I am having the best summer with Harry. He's been holding up well, especially after what happened to that girl. I know he blames himself for all this, but he's becoming as stoic as you, my friend. Stupid snivelling cowards if you ask me, putting bounties on children. I can see Pettigrew's hand in this, the slimy git. ' My Lord, if you want to get at Potter, go through his friends. I know how close they are, I lived with them for so long.' Should have killed the bastard that night. Ron reached his safe place, finally. There was a bit of a panic when Bill Weasley didn't show up to collect Ron the night you came for Hermione. From what I gathered from Dumbledore, Bill was followed on his way to Hogwarts that night, and it took him awhile to lose them. Don't know all the details, but I heard it was quite an ordeal. On that note, there is a rumour that someone knows the vicinity you are hiding in, which is damn disconcerting because I don't even know where you are. Dumbledore wrote and suggested I not mention this to you, as it is only a rumour, so as not to alarm you. If facts surface that lead to believe otherwise, you will be contacted immediately, he told me. Bloody hell, if it was me, I'd want to know, so there you have it. Keep your eyes open, and let me know how things are. Hope to see you soon, old friend. Sirius  
  
Frowning, he wondered why Dumbledore would think it would alarm him? He never knew the man to be that worried about what may or may not alarm someone. ________________________________________________  
  
She woke up shivering. How cold it was. Never had she felt it so cold for this time of year. She could still hear the rain beating against the roof, and she wondered what time it was. Pulling the cover up over her head, she tried to warm up, and found her teeth were starting to chatter. A hot cup of tea and a warm-up in front of the fire, she thought, that would be the ticket. Slipping her feet into her cold slippers, she wrapped the heavy quilt around her shoulders. As she stepped off the last step into the large room, she felt the warmth of the fire still burning brightly in the fireplace, giving the room a warm orange tinge. She halted when she saw that Lupin was still there. He had fallen asleep, half sitting up, on the small couch in front of the fire. Even in dim light, she could see him shivering under the thin throw he had taken from the couch.  
  
Going over to him, she reached out to pull the coverlet up and tuck it in closer around him, and then she paused. He looks so tired, she thought, and why shouldn't he be? He's been taking care of me, trying to keep my spirits up. Studying his face, noticing how young he looked, though fine lines framed his eyes, a wave of emotion coursed through her. How tragic his life must have been when he was young, and still is, she mused. Noble, kind Remus, how lonely you must really be, her eyes growing moist. Though his tales of his childhood had always been kept light-hearted for her benefit, she could feel the loneliness of his isolation caused by his malady.  
  
She pulled the coverlet up to his shoulders, then reached out to brush a lock of brown hair, still slightly damp from his trek through the rain, out of his face. Sweet soul, she thought, and bent down to gently kiss his forehead. As her lips touched his face lightly, she felt the feverish heat burn from him. Damn. He was burning up with a fever. Oh no, he can't be sick. She remembered the times she had been sick when she was little, before she knew of magic and pepper up potion, though she wished she had some now. Her mother had always given her aspirin and covered her up until she thought she would smother from the heat. 'The best way to get a fever down is to sweat it out'. Well, there was little chance of that, as cold as it was and with that thin cover. She swung the heavy quilt off her shoulders, shivering as the downy warmth was removed. Throwing it over Lupin, she started to tuck it in around him when he made a soft little noise like a whimper.  
  
Again, she was overcome with emotion, and knew she could not leave him down here alone. Lifting the covers, she gently crawled onto the sofa next to him. She could still feel him shivering, though heat radiated from his body. Laying her head carefully on his shoulder so not to wake him, she pulled the covers up over them. Hoping her added body heat would help break his fever, she snuggled close, and listened to his soft breathing until she too fell asleep. 


	6. A sofa, a hex and a dance

This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;  
  
Thou, thou, thou hast given her rhymes,  
  
And interchanged love-tokens with my child:  
  
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,  
  
With feigning voice verses of feigning love,  
  
And stolen the impression of her fantasy- A Midsummer's Night Dream  
  
He woke up feeling extremely rested and very warm. It was nice to be so rested; it had seemed a very long time since he had slept so soundly. His eyes popped open wide as he realized that something was resting slightly on top of him. Glancing down quickly, he saw a tumble of gold-brown curls spread out across the downy quilt, and only the top of a forehead sticking out. Hermione? When had she come down, and why was she laying here, er, almost on top of him? Had something scared her and she could not wake him up? Worried, he glanced around the room. Though it was morning, it was still quite dim, thanks to the tumultuous rain that was still beating against the windows. The fire had burned down to only a few embers. Nothing seemed amiss.  
  
He had felt terrible last night. The trek through the rain and night had chilled him to the bone. He must have fallen asleep while thinking of the letter he had received from Sirius. Hermione stirred, but only to move in closer, snuggling in under his arm, as he lay there pondering whether to wake her up or feign sleep so she could leave as inconspicuous as she had came. A smile played on his lips as he felt her hand under the layers move up to rest on his chest. It was a pleasant way to wake up, warm and cozy with a beautiful woman draped over. Buggers, lets not go down that route again, as he felt his body begin to take meaning to his words. This is Hermione, my ex- student. Moony, old boy, get a grip, he chided. But still he couldn't help thinking how nice it was to wake up like this, as his arm that was causally draped over her tightened and he drifted back into sleep.  
  
Hermione awoke with a start. I must have over-slept, she thought, and started to get up when she realized something was holding her down. A moment of panic swept through her. Oh no, remembering where she had last been. Fearfully, she raised her head out from under the quilt.  
  
"Good morning," said a pleasant voice cheerfully.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes again and turned her face away from Lupin's smiling face as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.  
  
"Did I miss something last night?"  
  
If possible, her cheeks burned hotter as she heard the mirth behind his question. She wanted to scramble up and away quickly, but found she was quite hindered as his arm was around her, holding her tightly to his side.  
  
"You. I. it was cold," she stammered, wishing she could slide back under the quilt and disappear as she hesitated for words.  
  
"I see. Yes, I remember it was quite cold, though I must say I am as warm as toast right now."  
  
Damn, why doesn't he let me up?  
  
"Er... Prof. Remus... Could you."  
  
"Something wrong, Hermione?"  
  
She thought his voice had grown a bit husky.  
  
"I think I really do need to get up."  
  
"Something stopping you?" he asked, sounding puzzled.  
  
Starting to get angry, she turned her face to him, seeing his bemused smile, his gray eyes twinkling at her. He looked so boyish her anger melted, and she giggled. A small laugh escaped his lips. "I must say it is rather a nice way to wake up, warm as toast, that is," and they both laughed, though his hold on her had not lessened. Still giggling, she tried to pull out of his arm, and reluctantly, she thought, he loosened his grip, letting her slide out, rather than moving it away.  
  
Still blushing, she found her slippers and started to pull the quilt away to wrap herself in it, but Lupin held on. "I think I need to stay warm a bit longer; thanks," he said, smiling at her. Shivering, she giggled and raced upstairs to get dressed.  
  
He lay back and stared blankly at the ceiling. He did need to stay there a bit longer, but not because he was cold. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so warm, a bit too warm to be presentable to arise. Get a grip, Moony, though it only reminded him that he had not wanted to loosen his grip on her.  
  
At breakfast, Hermione explained to him why she had joined him on the couch. Putting his fork down, he looked at her somberly. "Thank you, Hermione, for your kindness and concern." He was holding her gaze with those wistful eyes. "And I must apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way."  
  
She blushed slightly and shook her head.  
  
"Well," he said brightly, wiping his mouth and standing up, "shall we continue with your lessons this morning? Unless you want to work in the garden that is, though I would suggest taking gillyweed before going out today." Hermione laughed, rising to join him. ________________________________________________  
  
Glaring at him, she pushed her hair that refused to stay in the braid she wore out of her eyes. Eyes twinkling at her, he spoke the words that released her from the hex he had just put on her.  
  
"Concentrate, Hermione, you know the schematics of the blocking spell, you are just not concentrating."  
  
Anger fading, she knew he was right. They had been practising hexes all afternoon. She was irritated at herself for her wandering mind. Lupin had thrown hex after hex at her and she had failed to block them. His barely disguised humour had not helped her mood. It was just that he was so confident in his skill. At first, it had been she who threw hex after hex at him. He had successfully blocked or dodged them all, with an ease that made her envious. "I've had more practice," he told her when she bemoaned her ability, feeling as if she was just entering school, not even knowing what a hex was.  
  
"A break then," he said, going to the stove to put the kettle on.  
  
Picking up the book, she went over the blocking spell again, waving her wand in the perfect arch. Damn, it was his fault her mind kept wandering. She didn't want to admit it, but she kept thinking of how nice it felt to wake up in his arms this morning. Lying on that hard body, feeling so warm, safe... Silly git, don't go romanticising about your professor, though she was having a hard time considering him as old enough to be her professor. How come he looked so bloody young? And as far as looking like her ex- Hogwarts professor, never, she thought. He had worn Muggle clothing as she had since that first day in the garden, except for the day he went out. Surmising he done this to make her feel more relaxed, it only made her more aware of him.  
  
Bringing her a mug of hot chocolate, he settled in the chair opposite her, eyes still twinkling with bemusement.  
  
"Don't be so hard on yourself. Evidently, you have something on your mind. Would talking about it help?"  
  
Choking on the scalding hot liquid, she shook her head, flushing.  
  
"You are doing splendidly, Hermione," he told her honestly. "You know I think you are the cleverest, most talented young witch I have ever met." And bewitching, he thought before he could stop himself.  
  
"With your talent, Remus, you should have been an Auror," she told him, then realized what she had said. "Oh, I'm sorry. I know, I mean, you couldn't work at the Ministry." she faltered.  
  
Waving his hand, he brushed her apology away. "Thank you for the compliment." They finished their chocolate in silence. Thinking of her comment he remembered.  
  
"Class dismissed, excellent everyone; cover chapter seven, dealing with pseudo demons for next week. Remus Lupin, please stay a moment."  
  
"You're in for it now," Sirius laughed, jabbing him on his shoulder as he passed.  
  
"Probably wants to know how an idiot like you ever got into Hogwarts," Remus said good naturedly, as he returned the jab.  
  
When the last student had left, Professor Brightenwood closed the door to the DADA classroom. Leaning on a desk, he smiled at Lupin.  
  
"I wanted to have a quick word. What do you plan to do when you leave Hogwarts?"  
  
Remus was caught off guard. "I don't know," he answered honestly. How many options are open to a werewolf? he thought bitterly.  
  
"Well, I have a proposition for you." He was clearly excited. "You, my boy, are the most talented wizard I have had the pleasure in teaching in this class for many years. You have a natural calmness that allows you complete control in DADA."  
  
Control, yes; natural, if you only knew, he thought, but still curious.  
  
"I want you to consider joining the Ministry when you graduate next month. You have top marks on you NEWTs and I will give you the highest letter of recommendation. They need you, Remus, you would be an excellent Auror."  
  
Swallowing hard, Lupin felt the familiar bitterness rise to his throat. Join the Ministry? They wouldn't let him step one foot inside their pristine offices when they found out what he was. "I am honoured that you would think of me Professor, but I have no desire to become an Auror."  
  
Professor Brightenwood's face fell. "Are you sure? You don't have to decide right now. Take time, think about it."  
  
"No, I am afraid I won't change my mind, but thank you for the offer, Professor. Sorry I disappointed you."  
  
"You haven't disappointed me, son, I just hate to see talent like yours wasted. I am sure whatever you choose to do, you will do fine." Disappointment still evident on his face, Professor Brightenwood gave him a smile, and left the classroom.  
  
Damn.  
  
"I think a change of venues might be in order. Tell me, Hermione, what spells are you interested in learning?"  
  
She spoke quickly, and he knew she had thought about this before. "I would like to master the Expecto Patronum. Harry tried to show it to me after that night he drove the Dementors away from Sirius, but I have never been able to master it." He nodded. "And the Imperius Curse." It was his turn to choke on his chocolate.  
  
"I don't mean I want to learn how to use it," she explained quickly, "but how to overcome its effects. Professor Moody or whoever he was, put us under that in our fourth year, but Harry was the only one to ever throw it off."  
  
Clever girl, his respect for her deepening.  
  
"I think we can work on those. Of course, your Patronus will need a target eventually, but I probably can find a boggart in the forest. And if you trust me, I can put you under the Imperius Curse."  
  
A thought struck her. "You won't get into trouble, will you? I mean, it is an unforgivable curse."  
  
Smiling, admiring her concern for others, he reminded her that the cottage was undetectable from the outside including the magic used inside. "Unless you decide to turn me in, I will be safe," he teased. "If you are ready, we can start on that now."  
  
"Have you ever used the Imperius on anyone before?"  
  
Hesitating, he told her the truth. "Yes, during the last time the Order worked against Voldemort. But I assure you, it was only to stop someone from getting hurt."  
  
She looked at him with amazement. He had just confessed to using an unforgivable curse. It warmed her that he trusted her with that.  
  
"Want to change your mind?" he asked.  
  
"Oh no, I trust you, Remus."  
  
Smiling, he took out his wand. "Ready? Imperio."  
  
The dreamy, floating feeling of total relaxation filled her. As from a far away place, she heard his voice, or maybe it was his thoughts. Hop on your right foot. Sounds like a good idea, she thought, and began hopping.  
  
He watched her as her expression became dreamy, relaxed. His first thought projection had her hopping on around the room. Now the other leg. Switching legs, she continued hopping. He needed to do something out of her nature to start the fight in her, and had an idea. Stop hopping. Go upstairs and bring me your grandmother's quilt.  
  
When she had returned with the quilt, he took it from her, speaking a word of magic, he returned it to her. Throw it into the fire.  
  
He saw the flicker in her eyes as she heard his command. My gram's quilt? I couldn't.  
  
Throw it into the fire. Watching her eyes, he saw the beginnings of the argument in her mind. Then suddenly, she walked to the fireplace and tossed it in. A small whimper escaped her lips as she reached in to retrieve it. Grabbing her before she burnt her hands, he released her from the curse.  
  
My gram's quilt! Becoming very angry and hurt that he would do something like that to her, she started to speak, but her words were silenced, as he turned back to her, the quilt safely in his hands, unscathed.  
  
"A protection charm," he explained, wishing he hadn't done that to her, seeing the wounded look on her face. "I just needed to do something that would make you fight; I am sorry. I think we are finished with our lessons for today." She nodded, looking sadly down at the quilt she clutched in her arms.  
  
He wouldn't risk putting her under again. It wasn't just the wounded look, though that pained him deeply; he was sensing that something was wrong. _______________________________________________  
  
They were reading comfortably that evening before the fire, when Hermione looked up suddenly. "Music?" A smiled played at his mouth, as he sat there feigning he hadn't heard her. "A witch wireless," she said delightedly, noting the small black box sitting on the table. "Where did that come from?"  
  
"Haven't a clue." Noting her delight, he was glad he had borrowed it from the Wisenbery's.  
  
The song ended, and another began, a waltz. He noted the wistful look on her face. "A favourite?"  
  
"No, just a memory." She explained about the Yule ball during her fourth year, and Victor Krum. "It seems like a long time ago. In a gentler time."  
  
Standing, he offered his hand. "May I have this dance, Miss Granger?" Smiling, she took his hand. When the song had ended, a fast-paced song came on, and he shook his head. He could still manage a waltz or two, but he couldn't even fathom the kind of dance one might do to such a thunderous cascade of music. Tugging at his hands, she wouldn't let him out of it.  
  
It was her turn to be bemused as he kept shaking his head in protest at the Muggle dance she was trying to teach him.  
  
The music changed again, and a soft love ballad began. Thinking this was a time to sit down, he was caught off guard as Hermione moved into his arms and laid her head against his shoulder. His hands moved down to rest on her back as they circled slowly to the music. Thinking of how perfect she fit into his frame, he was keenly aware of her aroma, the sweet smell of musky roses, and of the soft flesh of her breast pressed against his chest. Lost in the music and her soft body next to him, he began running his hands slowly up and down her back, barely touching the fabric of her shirt. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in the citrus her shampoo must contain.  
  
Feeling the warmth and comfort in his arms, she closed her eyes letting the music flood into her being, unaware that she pressed closer to him, her arms encircling his neck. He smelled good, his clothes held the scent of cedar mingled with myrrh. She felt his heart beating beneath hers, the firm chest and raised her head.  
  
They stopped moving, opening her eyes, she saw him looking at her, his eyes smoky and searching. His hand moved to cup her cheek, the thumb tracing a line down her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth. His face was only inches from hers, and she saw his lips were parted; she wasn't imaging it this time. He's going to kiss me, as she too parted her lips.  
  
He broke away suddenly and ran his hand through his hair. Damn, he had almost kissed her, those sweet full lips that had been so ready for a kiss. That couldn't happen. Mustn't happen, he told himself; gaining his composure, he looked at her.  
  
Her face flushed, she bit her lip as she appeared deep in thought. Lost for words, he didn't know what to say, how to explain what almost happened. The song ended and an advertisement came on for Helga's Handy Housewife Helpers. The squeaky jingle was a bad imitation of a house elf finishing, 'Helga's Handy Housewife Helpers, more handy than a house full of house elves'. She giggled.  
  
The spell broke and he smiled at her; maybe she would just take it as a lark.  
  
At the top of the stairs, they bade each other good night, though it was many hours before sleep came to the house, as each examined their feelings about the events of the day. 


	7. A patronus and a revelation

Disclaimer-Don't own em AN Thank you lovely reviewers, because of you I want to try and keep the story going: Killer Angel, Ali, Allie, Sweetey angeline, Rumidha, Zebra Eyes, Bell, Juliane Shelton, headily, bmiller669, Hibiscus, Queen little mini.  
  
Bell- No I am just obsessive lol Rumidha- I am honored  
  
-------------  
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,  
  
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.  
  
What worser place can I beg in your love,  
  
And yet a place of high respect with me,- A Midsummer's Night Dream  
  
"Excellent!"  
  
She had been working on the Patronus spell all morning. In the past hour, she was starting to produce the silvery light with a substantial form. Encouraging her to find her most happy memory, she had finally produced a fully-formed Patronus. It was humanoid with large wings. Ange Gardien, he mused. It suited her.  
  
"Well done, Hermione, well done. I must find you a boggart to practice on to get the full effect of what a Patronus can do. When I go tomorrow, I will look for one in the forest. The challenge, as you know, is producing one when overwhelmed with your darkest memories when a Dementor is near."  
  
She had a strange effect to these words: the smile she had been wearing over her successful Patronus faded, and she stared at him, eyes wide.  
  
She had gone very pale, swaying slightly.  
  
"Hermione?" He went to her and took her hands. They were icy. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"It's my fault," she moaned.  
  
"What's your fault?"  
  
"It's all my fault." Big tears were now spilling from her eyes.  
  
"Let's sit down," he said, pulling her toward the couch. She staggered and he caught her, sweeping her up in his arms. Sitting down, he held her in his lap. "Tell me what's wrong," he encouraged, stroking the hair back from her face.  
  
"It's my fault... I killed her."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Al...i...cia."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"I knew... I knew she was going into Hogsmeade that day... she had told me earlier in the week she wanted to go... get Harry a present before term ended. All the Hogsmeade visits had been cancelled... and she want... she wanted..." Caressing her back, he urged her to continue. "I should have told someone when she wasn't at lunch that day. I knew she had gone. Harry had shown her how to get into Honeydukes on the map. I should have told her no, it was too dangerous. But I didn't know, I didn't know." She buried her face in his shoulder weeping.  
  
"Shhh, it's alright, it's not your fault..."  
  
"But it is." Her words were muffled in his shoulder. "I am a Prefect... I should have taken the rules seriously. I should have told someone she was gone... I never... I never..."  
  
"I know, love, I know," he said, softly rocking her.  
  
He rocked her, caressing her back, speaking soothingly to her as she wept.  
  
"I should have told someone. It's my fault, it's my fault."  
  
"Alright, it is your fault."  
  
She looked up at him startled, noticing the fire in his eyes, his face grim. "Just as it is the Order's fault for not uncovering the fact that bounties were placed on Hogwarts students in time, that every slimy low- life looking for a bit of gold would come after them. And most of all, it's my fault for making that damn map that Harry used to find the secret passages in the first place."  
  
"No, you couldn't have known what would happen."  
  
"And neither could you; lay the blame where it belongs, Hermione."  
  
She looked at him with woeful eyes, and comprehension flowed over him like icy water.  
  
"That's why you were so angry at being sent here. You wanted them to find you. It would have been what you thought you deserved."  
  
Her eyes gave her away once more.  
  
"Promise me you will never think that way ever again!" he said angrily. "You have the courage of a lion, tempered with heart of mercy; I know, I saw it that night in the Shrieking Shack and since we have been here. Don't let the bloody bastards take that from you. Promise me."  
  
She gave a slight nod.  
  
"Say it."  
  
"I promise," she murmured.  
  
"That's my Gryffindor girl," he said, gently kissing her forehead, and then with a gentle hand, laid her head back on his shoulder. He held her, rocking her as her sobs quieted.  
  
She has driven me to madness, he mused. One minute she is my equal, brilliant in her magic, the next a seductress that I must keep my hands and mind off, and now as he looked at her, her eyes closed, her hand holding onto the front of his shirt, all I want to do is protect her. ________________________________________________  
  
Hermione stirred, caught between that space between wake and sleep. She felt so warm, so safe, securer than she had since Alicia had died. Feeling the warmth against her face, she realized it belonged to another person, the steady heartbeat beneath her skin. The aroma filled her nostrils: earthy, human flesh that was definitely male. Then catching the sweet, exotic scent of myrrh, she remembered whose skin it was. Remus. His soap must be made with myrrh, she thought, the cloying aroma was intoxicating. Wondering if it would taste as delicious as it smelled, her tongue flicked out to taste.  
  
Remus was almost asleep, though his leg under her weight had been asleep for the last half hour, when he felt the shiver go through him as she stirred and he felt her tongue lick at his neck. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was still asleep. That thought was quickly ignored as the lick turned into a sucking movement that began moving up his neck. What the hell is she doing, he wondered, as he felt the fire burn through him from her administrations.  
  
The first taste was sweet, salty and sweet. Still lost in that place between awareness, she wanted to taste more of the skin of the neck before her. It was safe to do that; it was safe to do anything here, in this cocoon. When she reached the ear that belonged to that neck, she couldn't think of anything better than to taste it also.  
  
"Hermione." She felt two strong hands gripping her by the shoulders and bringing her up from her position. "If you would be so kind," he said, gritting his teeth as he tried to force the huskiness out of his voice, "I am afraid my legs have lost proper circulation."  
  
Fully awake now, she remembered she was sitting on his lap. Cheeks burning, she scrambled to her feet, not looking at him. "Sorry," she mumbled.  
  
"Don't be sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You needed to sleep after what you went through." He bent over, making the pretense of rubbing his leg, wanting to hide his arousal that was evident beneath the fabric of his trousers.  
  
Changing the topic quickly, he reminded her that he would be going to check in tomorrow, and if she had any letters, he would take them. After she had gone upstairs to get her writing supplies, he sat back up, shaking his head. Didn't she realize what a temptation she was to him? He couldn't help but grin. ______________________________________________________  
  
"Having problems?" he asked teasingly, noting the growing stack of crumbled parchment on the table. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue at him, giving him an accusing look instead, before returning to her writing.  
  
Her posts to Harry, Ron, and her parents had been done neatly with little fuss. She had to be careful not to give any clues to their whereabouts, which was easily accomplished, as she didn't know herself. It was the post to Ginny giving her pains. The words flowed smoothly until she got to the part where she mentioned Remus.  
  
Ginny was her closest girlfriend at school. Sharing weeks of the summer holidays at the Burrow had brought them closer together, especially after Ginny's incident with Tom Riddle during her first year at Hogwarts. Hermione had felt so badly for her, and she often found her crying in the bathrooms. She had gently coaxed Ginny to share her pain with her. Such things tend to breed real friendship. Since then, they had shared secrets and confidences, especially concerning the opposite sex. It was little secret that Ginny had a crush on Harry, but had eventually outgrown it, especially when he confessed to Hermione that he couldn't think of her as anything but a little sister, Ron's little sister to be precise.  
  
Ginny had written that she was dying to know what it was like to be living with Remus, with the express concern that she wasn't supposed to know, that Ron had let it slip in his post, because she knew Hermione had had a little crush on him in her third year when he taught at Hogwarts.  
  
She paused, and then started writing.  
  
Professor Lupin has been wonderful to be with. He has been teaching me advanced spells and I am learning more than I could at school.  
  
She thought that had a double meaning but surely Ginny wouldn't.  
  
Oh, you should see him in Muggle clothes, Gin. The difference is amazing. Like today, he is wearing black trousers and a slate blue shirt. The colour brings out the gold in his hair.  
  
Damn, she sounded like a giggling third year. Wadding up the parchment, she tried again.  
  
Remember how we thought Professor Lupin had the nicest voice and wondered if he could sing? Well, I heard him singing. She paused, she didn't want to say she had stood outside the bathroom, listening to him until he had finished his song the other morning. He was singing a song, I think it was in French, but I could have listened to his rich, tenor voic. Sighing, she wadded up the parchment, and with a 'damn', threw it across the table. Raising an eyebrow at her, amused, Remus thought it best not to say a word.  
  
Resignedly, she finished her letter to Ginny.  
  
Professor Lupin has been really nice and he has taught me a great deal about advanced charms and hexes.  
  
Love,  
  
Hermione __________________________________________________  
  
Aha! I have you now. He was prodding the boggart into the shoulder bag he had brought for the task. Satisfied that he had finally accomplished his task of finding a boggart for Hermione to practice her Patronus on, he noted the long shadows the sun was throwing throughout the wood. It had taken much longer than he had anticipated finding a boggart hidden among the dead trees in the forest.  
  
It would be quite late before he could return to the cottage tonight, as he was still miles from the Wisenbery's. When he had at last reached the small farm, the sun had begun its leisurely descent behind the hills. As he reached up to rap on the door, it swung open, and he was ushered in quickly to a worried-looking Chesire Wisenbery.  
  
"Where've ye been boy,?" he growled. "Was beginning to think I would have to go looking for ye. Were ye followed?"  
  
Apologising, Remus shook his head, stating that he had just gotten a late start that morning.  
  
"Got a post from Dumbledore a few days after ye left. Said ye needed to read this straight off. Just wished I had known how to get it to ye quicker."  
  
Noticing the anxiety on the older man's face, Remus remained calm as he opened Dumbledore's post.  
  
Remus,  
  
Events have occurred that I must bring to your attention. First I must impress on you this in not a call to return to us, but a warning to be vigilant in your seclusion. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were attacked of Monday of this week. Fortunately, the detection charms you placed on the house were effective, and Phoenix members arrived before any irreversible harm was afflicted. Mr. Granger was subjected to the Cruciatus curse and was unconscious when members arrived. Mrs. Granger was under the effects of Veritaserum. The Death Eaters unfortunately Disapparated before we could stop them.  
  
I fear that Mrs. Granger had divulged the fact that you were the one who had approached them on the matter of Hermione. Though she could not tell them any more than this, they are fully aware that you have information they want. This suspicion was confirmed the following night. I regret to have to tell you this, Remus, but apparently acting on that information, your residence was burnt, the Dark Mark left as a calling card. I am truly sorry.  
  
It is imperative that you take every precaution to prevent detection. Do not leave the safe house again, and to be precautious, I would advise that you remain within the walls of the house until further notice.  
  
We will continue with the planned arrangement. Your contact will come directly to you with any further news.  
  
Again, Remus, I have faith in you and offer my apologies. You may feel free to tell Miss Granger any of this. I leave that to your judgement.  
  
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster  
  
Chesire watched the younger man read, noting that no emotion flickered over his face. Maybe it wasn't as bad as what he had expected.  
  
Remus folded the letter and slipped it into his robes. "Sir," he said, turning to face Mr. Wisenbery, "I am afraid that this will be the last time I will have the pleasure of your company."  
  
"Anything I can do to help?" the older man asked, concerned.  
  
Waving a hand, Remus shook his head.  
  
Laying a hand on his shoulder, Chesire walked him to the door. "If ye do need help, just remember I haven't forgotten how to cast a few spells here and there."  
  
Remus grinned at him, remembering the stories he had told him of his work with Dumbledore against the wizard Grindelwald. "I have no doubt in that matter." __________________________________________  
  
Walking quickly through the dark forest, he felt a quiet fury run through him as he thought of the letter. It infuriated him that Hermione's parents had to endure the hands of those bastards. Though their memories had been Oblivated, he knew that the effects of the Cruciatus curse would haunt Mr. Granger, though he would have no idea what was happening to him.  
  
As far as the loss of his family home, he had felt a twinge of remorse over the memories it held. It had fallen into disrepair over the years, as he had no money to maintain it. As for losing anything valuable, the little he owned in that way he had brought with him. It no longer mattered that he had no residence. With the growing darkness of Voldemort's terror, he would have little reason to stay in one place with movements of the Order.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, he jerked when he heard the sound behind him. He stopped, holding his breath as he listened. It was unmistakable, the shuffling, the slight breaking of twigs. He was being followed.  
  
_________________________ Ange Gardien-guardian angel 


	8. Do I want him to kiss me?

WOW.I am overwhelmed by the really nice reviews..so ta dah here is chapter eight..must warn you I am submitting here before my beta has sent it back..hehe I couldn't resist though.hope you like it and again I don't own them..  
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,  
  
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody- Midsummer's Night Dream  
  
Breathing deeply he caught their scent. Goblins. They had the most distinctive odor of rotting fish and sourwood. Though the goblins had made a term of peace with the wizarding world, Lupin knew as the hair on his neck stood up that this was an ambush. Tremendously greedy, these goblins were probably after the reward offered by the Dark Lord for those who worked against him.  
  
Clutching his wand under his cloak he quickened his pace, ever aware of their presence drawing closer and closer. They were herding him, he realized, as he neared a widen part of the path he was on, his nose alerted him to the fact there were two position to the right. Glancing quickly in that direction he understood what was about to happen and smiled. Continuing on, he grasped his wand more firmly as he neared the spot. Pointing his wand above his head, shouting 'Sensio!', he dove, tumbling, as the net that was positioned above him was released.  
  
Coming up on one knee, clear of the fallen net, he pointed his wand in their direction and shouted, "Impedimenta!" A grunt and thud told him he had been successful. Scrambling to his feet he heard the click of a weapon being fired as a bolt caught in his robes. Turning he pointed his wand and again cast the Impedimenta hex. Running he heard guttural curses and more movement coming toward him from the side. The click of more bolts being fired at him, gave him moments to dodge and twist out of the way of the flying ammo. When he knew they were close enough he swung about shouting 'Stupefy!' as red shot from his wand. He heard the grunt and watched as one fell. Another was running on his right side and he sent another bolt from his wand as he hexed it.  
  
Distancing the goblins behind him he was caught momentarily off guard as one stepped out of the bushes in front of him. He raised his wand, but not before the bolt was released from the crossbow the creature held. Remus felt the sting of the bolt as it grazed his shoulder, hexed the creature and ran on. Running up the path he heard more movement coming swiftly several hundred yards behind him. He didn't know how many there were and did not relish all the magical emanations he would have to use to fight much longer. Swiftly, with a catlike agility he dodged in and out among the trees and bushes when suddenly his right shoulder clipped a tree and he stumbled. How unlike him, he mused.  
  
Hearing the crash of creatures coming through the forest now ahead and behind him, he cast a glamor. Getting to his feet, he had barely ran ten yards before he stumbled again.  
  
Fire shot down his arm, and he reached up to feel the place the bolt had grazed. He did not need to see the thick gelatinous liquid he felt on his fingers to know that he had been poisoned. His vision blurred, knowing he would have to get out of there quickly, he Apparated.  
  
----------------------------------- Falling hard on his knees, he felt the pain as the stones and limbs poked and prodded him. He had Apparated to the only place he could think of outside the cottage. The brush pile he had made when helping Hermione their first day in the garden. Staring at the fence, he concentrated on following it around to the gate. The magical wards prevented him from climbing over, and as he stumbled for the third time he wasn't sure that he would make it there.  
  
A thud outside the door brought Hermione to her feet in alarm. It was very late and she was already anxious because Remus had not returned yet. Clutching her wand, she crept to the door and opened it just a crack. She gasped as she saw Remus there, his breathing labored, blood running down his shoulder. He tried to get up but stumbled into the door instead. Grabbing his shoulders, she drug him inside as he crawled.  
  
"My god, Remus what happen.." "The door," he slurred, his head rolling with the words. She ran over to shutting it. "Prae.praem," he kept trying to make the words form in his head. "Praemunio?" He nodded. Turning back to the door she cast the securing spell. Kneeling down beside him she tried to look at the wound on his shoulder. "Get me upstairs," he mumbled. Pulling him up, she draped his arm across her as they stumbled upstairs. Helping him over to the bed, he sat there trying to will his head and eyes from spinning. "My bag in the top drawer..."  
  
Hurrying, she opened the dresser and pulled out a small leather valise. Bringing it to him, he opened it and fumbled with the items inside. Finally he pulled out a small jar. Opening it the aroma of camphor and bittersweets filled the room. Dipping some inky black substance out, he attempted to rub the ointment on his shoulder but missed, falling back onto the bed.  
  
"Here let me," she murmured trying to keep the hysteria she felt down. Taking the jar she gently rubbed the ointment into the wound, thankful it wasn't very deep.  
  
"Careful," he whispered, "there is poison around it." Her fight on hysteria was sorely being tested. "Poison? No, you're not going to ..." she couldn't bring herself to say it. "They would not have wanted me dead. Could.could not have questioned me that way." His eyes were rolling trying to focus on her face. "It will be okay," giving her a wry smile. "I am afraid that I will pass out soon," he said his voice slurring. "Please don't be alarmed."  
  
Don't be alarmed? She felt like screaming at him for trying to calm her.  
  
"Please don't worr,.." He had passed out. Hermione wanted to scream, throw something, fling the door open and curse every object she saw. __________________________  
  
"NOOOOO!"  
  
Hermione jerked awake, pulling her wand out as she rose. Looking around she saw only Remus, as he thrashed on the bed. He was still asleep, sweat streaming down him. She hurried to him wanting to wake him but could not get near him as he jerked violently.  
  
"No, no, no, don't let them see her.run, hurry."  
  
Hermione's mouth gaped.  
  
"Sirius run, don't let them take you, run, I will hold them off.wait where is she..where ..no.I wont accept that.let me go..HERMIONE!"  
  
She clamped her hand to her mouth as a sob escaped her. He was in torment. She couldn't stand it.  
  
"Remus, Remus!" She was slapping at his cheeks as he struggled. "Oh please wake up, o pleas.." she stopped as he opened his eyes looking at her wildly.  
  
"Oh thank god. You were scaring me,"  
  
"Hermione?" he asked vaguely as if he didn't know her.  
  
"Yes, I am here you were having such a terrible ..."  
  
But she didn't finish as Remus reached out, grabbing her around the waist, pulling her into kneeling position on the bed as he buried his head in her lap.  
  
"You're safe, your safe, I thought I failed, they had got you.." he said brokenly.  
  
Stroking his hair as she felt him shake, she said gently. "Shhh, it was only a dream. I am safe. You haven't failed me. Its alright."  
  
She continued to stroke his hair as he cried into her lap, murmuring comforting words to him, as she would have a child.  
  
Finally he raised his head sitting up to look at her. She gave him a small smile. "Bad dream?" she asked, trying to make light of it.  
  
He didn't answer, but held her gaze with his soft gray eyes, shining bright. Reaching out, he picked up a curl that lay on her shoulder, and began twirling it gently on his finger, caressing it.  
  
Hermione held her breath; afraid that her breathing might break the spell he was under. Was it the poison still working on him?  
  
Never taking his eyes from hers, he pulled the curl out bringing it to his mouth and kissed it. She had to take a breath and it gasped as it rushed from her. His eyes had gone smoky and questioning. Did she want him to kiss her? Oh that was ludicrous she thought, its just the effect of the poison. Or was it? Her eyes betrayed her as she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, as she had the other times she thought he might, and before she could think anymore he had pulled her to him and was pressing his mouth over hers.  
  
She had imaged kissing him would have been like Ron's kisses sweet and gentle, but she shuddered as she felt the lips on hers burn, searing as they bruised hers, taking her breath with their intensity. His mouth forced hers open as his tongue sought hers and she tasted the saltiness of the tears that he had been shedding.  
  
"Sweet, so sweet" he heard him whisper between kisses. The fear that had flooded her when he had first started kissing her melted, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He rolled her over on to her back, still kissing her deeply.  
  
When she thought she could no longer breath from the driving kisses, he wrenched his mouth from hers and began kissing her face. She let out a small moan as he moved down to her neck, bit her ear lobe and returned to kiss her again. This time it was she who opened his mouth timidly tasting his tongue. Hearing him moan in return, as she explored his mouth, she gained courage and reached up and began running her hand through his hair while the other played with the taut muscles around his neck.  
  
Pulling away from her, he rose up on his arms as he gazed down at her. His eyes sought hers again, smoky and passionate, again seeking an answer to a question. Answering, she lifted up enough to pull the shirt she was wearing over her head and he heard his breathing grow deeper, as he too took off his.  
  
He was solid, lean and lithe, inviting she mused as she reached up to tentatively rub a finger down the hollow of his chest giving him a small smile. Smiling, he came back to her, giving her the impression of the wolf he turned into once a month. "Beautiful," he murmured as his mouth found hers again, his hand running down her side, tracing the contours gently, sending ripples through her.  
  
When he left her mouth, he began kissing gently down her throat, to the swell of her breast above the lacy bra, and she arched her back to press against his body.  
  
As she felt his arousal against her she was scared, not of him but of the unknown. It felt like she was watching this happen to her from a haze. Though Ron had taken a few liberties when they were going together, it had never been like this, so passionate so wild. Was this all right? Should they, and if they did what did it mean?  
  
Sensing her hesitation, he kissed his way back to her lips gently, slowly pulling each lip into his mouth running his teeth against it. This time the question wasn't asked with a look, but when he nuzzled her neck and whispered into her ear. "Sweet, sweet Hermione." His voice was husky and warm in her ear, "I want you more than anything I have ever wanted in my life." She shivered at the desire she heard in his voice. "But above that, above anything, I want you to be alright. Do you understand me? All you have to say is no."  
  
All I have to say is no? Insane, she thought, when every fiber of her being was screaming to have him close to her. He rose up once more, looking at her more quizzical now, an almost embarrassed expression on his face. Smiling, she felt the yearning to have him as near to her as possible, as she reached up for him.  
  
He resisted and now it was her turn to look at him questioningly. Closing his eyes, she watched, as he seemed to struggle with something for a brief moment, before he leaned down capturing her mouth once more, with an intensity that took her breath away.  
  
I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,  
  
To die upon the hand I love so well.  
  
_____________________________  
  
Sensio-slow Praemunio-to secure Glamor- taken from my memory, to confuse the identity and location of the person or thing it is cast upon 


	9. No bedroom deny

Disclaimer, these characters are not mine. AN- Thank you my wonderful reviewers. I had hoped to wait until this chapter came back from my excellent beta reader Allison, who has been great at putting my wrongs to right and Brit picking. However, she has been ill, so again I will post this and if it needs correction later I will re edit. I tried to keep it from becoming saccharine but endearing instead. Merlin, save me, I am a romantic at heart. Cheers.  
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,  
  
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.  
  
What worser place can I beg in your love,  
  
And yet a place of high respect with me,- A Midsummer's Night Dream  
Sunlight streamed across her faced as she rolled over and stretch languidly. She felt so relaxed and so .Oh! She sat up quickly the covers falling away. Snatching them back up she blushed as she remembered where she was, what she had done. Glancing around the room she saw no sign of Remus. Cheeks burning, she smiled as she thought of last night. Never had she felt such emotions. It was like magic had filled her being and she was part of that magic that sang from ever cell of her body.  
  
"Good morning"  
  
Hesitating shyly by the stairs, she called "morning" to Remus, who had his back to her as he was flipping eggs expertly in the pan.  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
"Famished" she said a little too quickly as she moved to sit down at the small table. She glanced at him and saw that his cheeks were flushed as he gave serious attention to finishing the breakfast.  
  
Turning to the table with plates in hand, he smiled at her as he sat a plate down in front of her with a "milady" then moved to sit down beside her.  
  
Though she was very hungry she stared down at the plate, picking up her fork and putting it down several times.  
  
"Most interesting way of eating. Is it a new style?"  
  
She looked at him and saw he was leaning on his elbows chin in his hands looking at her. His eyes sparkled as they met hers.  
  
Biting her lip, she wondered how she was going to ask him the question that was burning in her mind. It was too intimate, but after last night why was she so shy?  
  
"It is healthier to ask the question than try to think it out. So often the recipient only gets part of the thought being sent and disastrous things can happen. I do believe that is how Blast Ended Skrewts came into being.  
  
Laughing with him, she felt more at ease and blurted out what she so desperately wanted to know.  
  
"Why didn't we make love?"  
  
Remus' smile deepened as he watched her go scarlet.  
  
"Didn't we?"  
  
"I .don't .think so," she stammered wishing she could Disapparate.  
  
"I think," he said gently standing and offering her his hand " this conversation is more suited for the couch rather than over eggs and bacon." She gave a strained laugh as she allowed him to lead her to the small sofa.  
  
Sitting there close to him, she felt she would faint from the heat of her face. His hand gently cupped her chin to bring her eyes up to lock on his.  
  
"What makes you think that I did not make love to you?" he asked softly.  
  
"Well I have never.you know.been with a man.but I do know how a man and woman.comes together.and.well we didn't.I mean unless I fell asleep.."  
  
Remus coughed, interrupting her.  
  
"Hear me out, then ask me the question again if you must. What happened last night was much more than I had a right to ask, I who was, and am your protector, and it shouldn't have happened."  
  
She started to protest but he pressed his finger to her lips. "I could blame it on the stress of the situation we find ourselves in, the poison that coursed through my veins, but I would not blame it on anything except a man being consumed with the thoughts of a sweet, beautiful, wondrous woman."  
  
"I knew you had never been with another man, and that was too precious to take from you until a time when you fall in love with all your heart." She could barely stand the look of pain in those wistful eyes as he said that. " I could only love you to the best of my ability after that. And I did. Every inch of you," he finished, grinning wolfishly.  
  
Hermione could have sworn even her hair had turned red from the heat rising from her face as she thought about him loving every "inch" of her. The kissing that had traveled all over her body stopping to bring her to a feverish pitch not once but many times last night.  
  
Remus waited for her to finish having her thoughts before speaking again softly. "So, my sweet Hermione, do you want to ask the question again?"  
  
"No" she said grinning mischievously at him.  
  
"Good." He leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips, "I do hate cold eggs." ---------------------  
  
They ate in silence. Glancing at him, Hermione noticed that he seemed deep in thought and didn't like the seriousness she saw in his face. She knew what was coming. After clearing the table, he sat down beside her and leaned over taking her hand in his. "Hermione, we must talk."  
  
"Oh no Remus Lupin," she said angrily. He blinked, startled. "I will not hear it. Don't give me 'it was wrong, it's all my fault, sorry it happened' bit. What happened last night happened because I wanted it also," though I wanted even more, "and I wont let you take full responsibility for it."  
  
His mouth gaped a second before he grinned. True he was going to say something in that lines later this evening, though not right now. Seeing her determined face, and eyes flashing at him, he couldn't help but chuckle.  
  
"What?" she demanded flushing.  
  
"Well, thank you," he said gently, "but I was just going to tell you what happened last night out in the woods and things that have come to my attention from the Order."  
  
"Oh," she mumbled, her face burning. "I do want to hear what happened."  
  
After describing the goblin attack, he told her the Order had thought someone knew where they were. Whether they worked alone or with someone else he did not know.  
  
"Why?" she asked. "Why do they want me?"  
  
Giving her a sly grin, he grew sober once more. "Its not just you, but many things. Hogswart students were targeted because it was a way to prick Dumbledore. It's a sordid game they are playing," he told her remembering the list that Severus had presented to the Order. "They offer points for each student they can get their hands on. But its not just students, many wizard and Muggle alike are targeted. What is so ironic is when they took the Greenberg girl they didn't realize her relationship with Harry." His voice dripped with sarcasm, " It would have been worth a lot more points. You and Ron are Harry's best friends, thus the added bonus..and," he hesitated, then continued, "they also want you because you are the brightest witch to grace Hogswart in a century."  
  
She gaped at him. "I would never consider joining them, they must realize that."  
  
"Perhaps they do, either way it would be a bonus to lay their hands on you." Pausing a moment, he allowed her to think about what he had said. Reaching over he gripped her hand with both of his. "I have something else that I must tell you," he said quietly and told her about what had happened to her parents. He had been afraid that she would break down once more, perhaps even blame herself. She paled, however fire flashed in her eyes, and her face grew set once more.  
  
"All right?" he asked. Looking at him, she gave a sardonic smile. "Yes, but I might be asking you to teach me the Cruciatus before long." He gave her a wolfish grin.  
  
----------  
  
Spending a pleasant day together, holding her in his arms, they sat on the sofa as he read to her from a book of Shakespeare he had. She had been amused that he had such a book. "I have always enjoyed his works, especially the tragedies," she told him. "He was truly a gifted Muggle." she teased. He raised an eyebrow at her. "And who told you he was a Muggle?" You don't mean..", he leaned over silencing her with a kiss.  
  
As they stopped at the top of the stairs that evening, she hesitated. What did she do? Did she move to join him or should she wait for him to ask her? Sensing her hesitation, Remus looked at her. " I do not expect you to share my bed again," he smiled softly, "and if even if you wanted to, I must warn you, that I may not be so noble again."  
  
She stood there biting the corner of her mouth.  
  
Kissing her forehead he solved her dilemma for her. "Good night sweet angel. I am very tired. Sleep well." Then he turned and closed the door. Still biting her lip she stared at the closed door for a long time before going into her own room.  
  
Remus lay on his back staring up into the darkness. Two more nights until the full moon he thought offhandedly. For once he was glad of that. To turn into the wicked, evil, despised creature that he felt like. How could he have done that to Hermione? Though sweet beyond belief, he was disgusted with himself. He had let his lust run away with him. Really? a sarcastic voice replied. No, when he had realized she had never been with a man, it had taken a lot of control not to continue, but he had stopped because of concern for her. Concern? Damn it, he did it because he loved her. Bloody hell, when had that happened. He had thought the walls he had placed around that part of his heart was impenetrable...  
  
"I think we should make this thing a double ceremony," Sirrus said raising his glass of scotch towards Remus, while Peter nodded his agreement, choking on the pungent cheroot he had just lit.  
  
"Bugger off," Remus told them flushing. James caught his eye and he saw his friend wink at him. "How about it Remus? I don't want to be the only sensible one around here, and if I wait to marry Lily until one of these two prats are ready to settle down I am afraid I will be too old to go on the honeymoon."  
  
"Sensible? Sirius snorted. "What good is sensible when there are so many women in this world to chose from. So many pleasures left to explore..." his eyes were glazing, James and Remus chuckled at the sight of him getting aroused as he thought.  
  
"I agree," Peter said," besides Black here still hasn't had a change to catch up with me."  
  
"In a pig's eye," snarled Sirius, "you only dream about outdoing me, you git."  
  
They began arguing back and forth.  
  
James sighed, smiling and shook his head. Putting an arm around Remus, he led him to the kitchen of the small flat the four men shared. "Those two and their competition for women. I do believe I meant what I said. If I wait for those two.."  
  
"You will wait for no one," Remus said, his eyes twinkling at his friend. "You and Lily will have your day together".  
  
"I know," James said returning the smile," its just I think I would like to see you as happy as I am. Don't tell me you haven't thought about asking her."  
  
Remus looked down at his hands, grinning. "Of course I have, imagined the ways, circled the day I would, but then I remember..."  
  
"That you are a werewolf?" James finished for him.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You are a man, who loves her dearly and would be the best thing that ever happened to her".  
  
Remus was silent looking at James who held his eyes. " Tell her, then you will feel free to live your life. If she truly loves you, it will not matter."  
  
That she was one Jade MacNair, a black haired, Ravenclaw beauty, who had earned the name Ice Maiden from Sirius as she had turned her icy blue eyes on him for the hundredth time and told him in not so polite terms what he could do with himself and his assumption that she would be interested in him. It had been Sirius's only failure in school.  
  
Remus remembered clearly that first class in potions during their seventh year. Jade had walked over to the table where he and Sirius sat. As she approached Sirius had turned to Peter and gave him a 'I told you she'd come' around wink. When she had asked if Sirius would be so polite and allow her to team with Remus this term, Sirius had been so dumbstruck he couldn't say anything. As he made his way to sit with Peter, who had fallen of his stool from laughing, he kept shaking his head muttering.  
  
That had been the start. Soon she was helping Remus with potions homework in the evenings, which had led to holding hands, to kisses, to love.  
  
Now after two years, they were still together much to the chagrin of her father, who had gotten her a job at the Ministry in the control of Magical Creatures. Though Remus only had odd jobs here and there, she accepted him and didn't berate him for turning down the job her father had offered him.  
  
That evening, after his talk with James, he had determined that he would tell her.  
  
Sooner than he had hoped, they were strolling through a park. She was holding tight to his arm, talking animatedly about work, while he went over and over how in his mind how he was going to break the news to her. Sitting down on a bench, he reached over and kissed her gently.  
  
"Jade, there is something I must tell you."  
  
She leaned against him, nuzzling his neck. "Go on."  
  
"Jade, I .I am a werewolf." There he had said it.  
  
"And I am a vampire," she giggled, nipping at his neck. Pulling her away from him, he held her at arms length, staring into those eyes that were the color of a pale clear dawn. "I am serious. I am a werewolf."  
  
She frowned at him. "Oh go on, did those silly gits you live with tell you to say that?"  
  
"No, think, use that Ravenclaw mind of yours. Didn't you ever think it odd that I am always unavailable every month? Like clockwork? Or maybe like the pull of the moon?"  
  
He could see her working through this in her mind. Eyes widening, she looked at him with shock. Then he saw it. Those eyes, cool, hard, the ones that had told Sirius to go fuck himself.  
  
"You can't be!" She rose, trembling. " You just can't be."  
  
"But I am Jade I am so sorry."  
  
Smack! She had struck him with all the anger she was feeling. " You filthy bastard! How dare you..how dare you play with me.all this time."  
  
"Jade," his voice was calm, though he was shaking inside."I didn't play with you. I love you."  
  
"Don't say that! Don't even think that!" she screamed." To think that I felt anything for you! Get away from me, you filthy, disgusting creature! Just stay away!" She turned and ran up the lane. All he could do was just watch her retreating form.  
  
If she truly loves you, it will not matter... He had never seen her again. The walls had been built high that night in his heart. When Lily and James had been killed, and Peter supposedly had died at the hands of Sirius, he had added the last stone to that wall. Though he cared deeply about others, he never wanted to be vulnerable to loving someone again, not because of the pain; pain he could tolerate for himself, but the pain others may have to bear loving him.  
  
And now he had let a bit of a girl slip through. Not a girl, he corrected, a woman, beautiful and loving. It was just the situation, she was here, vulnerable, so loving and giving. He was a wretch. She would look back later and hate him for this time in her life. Stop it Moony, he heard his Sirius conscious tell him. You have every right in this world to be loved and have a normal life. If I catch you having another pity party I will crash it with a hundred dung bombs in your pillow, I swear.  
  
The door opened to his room and he sat up quickly. "Hermione? Is something wrong?" He started to rise but heard her.  
  
"Everything is okay. I came to talk to you"  
  
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Hermione we can talk tomorrow. I think its best." his voice trailed off as he looked up as she crossed in front of a patch of moonlight. He caught a glimpse of shimmering skin.  
  
"Hermione, I think maybe.." But she had knelt down on the side of the bed.  
  
"Shhh," she put a finger to his lips. Climbing into the bed he felt the heat of her body as it neared his.  
  
"I don't think this is wise ...She silenced him as she kissed him sweetly on the lips. Cupping her face with his hands, he meant to push her away, but groaned, capturing her lips with bruising intensity. Hands tangled in her hair, he kissed her hungrily, with desperation.  
  
Pulling back suddenly, he looked into her face, her eyes half closed, lips swollen, her cheeks flushed. "You need to leave," he said coolly, turning away from her. He felt her hands as they moved to rest on his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles underneath. "No," she whispered.  
  
Turning to face her, he grasped her wrists, holding them away from him, though he longed for nothing more than to have her touch him. He looked at her face in the moonlight. It was open and honest and full of tenderness." I warned you that I could not have you here."  
  
"I heard what you said today," she said softly, "and I am not leaving." She gave him a half smile, eyes sparkling.  
  
She saw a tear run slowly down his cheek.  
  
"Werewolves are not suppose to be able to cry. Did you know that?" he asked her, shaking his head. Here he had shed more tears in a few weeks than in a lifetime.  
  
"I ." she was a little startled at his words, but had the perception that he was somehow telling her not to forget what he was. "All I know is that the man I see before me is sensitive enough to do so.." Blushing now she tried to finish, but he reached out and gently kissed her.  
  
"Are you sure?" he murmured.  
  
"Yes," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.  
  
He hugged her tightly, marveling at the beautiful woman who had indeed driven him to madness. ----------------- Later as they lay there, holding her close, listening to the soft rhythmic sound of her breathing as she slept, he nuzzled her hair. " I love you," he whispered in a barley audible tone.  
  
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!  
  
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.  
  
I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit  
  
So that but one heart we can make of it;  
  
Two bosoms interchained with an oath;  
  
So then two bosoms and a single troth.  
  
Then by your side no bed-room me deny 


	10. Summer's sudden end

Author's Note PLEASE READ: Thank you so very much for the reviews, I am truly overwhelmed. I would like to name each one of you but I would be afraid that I would leave someone out. IF YOU REALLY LIKED THIS STORY PLEASE ANSWER THIS QUESTION. This is the final chapter, it was always outlined to be so. However during chapter 6 I outlined a sequel to this story. I am torn between leaving it as it, letting the reader create their own ideas or writing the sequel which will begin five years later which is antsy and dark. If you could give me some feedback it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you again, thought I would let you know this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction.  
  
Cheers, Andrian  
If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,  
  
It stands as an edict in destiny:  
  
Then let us teach our trial patience,  
  
Because it is a customary cross,  
  
As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,  
  
Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.- A Midsummer's Night Dream  
  
Remus lay there, a slight smile on his lips, as the dawning sun slowly chased the shadows from the room. Sleep had not come to him, but he didn't mind. He was quite content to lie there holding her, studying her features as she slept. Amazement still flooded through him, at the thought of last night, what they had shared, what she had so willingly given. Any thoughts of guilt that tried to push through were quickly brushed away. There was nothing to feel guilty about.  
  
A sudden noise caught his ear. He stiffened. It couldn't be, but he heard again, the faint creak of a board downstairs. Gently he entangled himself from her, throwing on his robe and grabbing his wand. Stealthily he crept out of the room and went downstairs.  
  
Stretching languidly, Hermione was disappointed not to find Remus still next to her. Pulling on her robe, she grinned, at the aches she felt. The night had once again been magical, so much more so than she ever dreamed. Opening the door she paused, hearing muffled voices coming from downstairs. The radio perhaps. Smiling she hurried down.  
  
"Morning," she called brightly as she stepped into the room. Her face froze as she saw Remus sitting at the table talking with.Snape! What was he doing here?  
  
Snape looked up when she had spoken. His eyes were sweeping over her, taking in her disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, before moving down to her bare legs beneath her robe. His eyes glittered maliciously as he looked between her and Lupin.  
  
"Hermione, leave us please." Remus said quietly. He had not missed the potions master's mind putting the pieces together. Turning, horrified, she fled back up the stairs, stopping, with her hand on her door listening.  
  
"Well well," she heard Snape's silky voice, full of smugness, " seems the wolf did manage to have a bit of lamb for dinner." Hermione thought she would faint  
  
"You don't know what you are talking about," Remus said calmly.  
  
"Don't I? Come now, I am not such a fool that I don't know what sordid little games you two have been playing here."  
  
"You are quick to jump to such conclusions. Perhaps could it be because you had such thoughts yourself?"  
  
"How dare you! You filthy creature, tell me did you manage to seduce her into your bed or just forcibly take her. When Dumbledore told you to hone her skills while here, I am sure he didn't mean teaching her to be your whore."  
  
Sounds of chairs being scraped on the floor, and a thud, alarmed her. She hurried down the stairs; afraid Snape had done something to Remus. Stopping half way down, she crouched down and saw that Remus had the taller man pressed against the wall.  
  
"Get your filthy hands off me!"  
  
"Never say a disrespectful word against Hermione again," Remus growled and she thought she saw a brief flicker of fear pass over Snape's face.  
  
Releasing his hold on Snape's robe, Remus turned away and spoke coldly, "go, run back to Dumbledore and tell him whatever you think may have happened here. I am sure you will make it sound convincing. Just leave my sight."  
  
Straightening his robes, Snape regained his composure along with the sneer on his face. "Am I also to tell headmaster you will return your charge as instructed, or shall I make your excuses?"  
  
"You know I will do what is asked of me."  
  
"Really?" his words dripped venom, noting the slump in Remus' shoulders. "You aren't worthy of Dumbledore's trust."  
  
"Just go Severus," Remus sighed.  
  
A triumph look passed over Snape's face a moment, knowing his words had hit home.  
  
"You will be expected then."  
  
Eyes glittering, Snape spotted Hermione crouched on the stairs. His eyes raked over her once more, making her feel exposed. "Good day Miss Granger, pity you did not have the sense of mind to use the object I gave you," he sneered, then turned and left, the door slamming.  
  
Knees weak, she went to stand near Remus, watching him struggle with his thoughts. "Remus?" She reached out to touch him but he moved away. Tears flooded her eyes. He didn't look at her.  
  
"We need to get packed. You will be returning to Hogswart tonight," he sighed, running his hand through his hair.  
  
"I .don't understand."  
  
"It's actually a nice surprise, we had planned to bring your parents, Ron, Harry and Ginny to school so that all of you might spend your last few weeks before the semester together, if it worked out and apparently it has."  
  
Finally he looked at her. Seeing the tears falling, he felt like a bastard.  
  
"Oh love, I am so sorry," he said pulling her into his arms. "I'm so sorry," he said again as she shook slightly. He caressed her gently, nuzzling her hair. The accusing words still echoed in his head and he pushed them away angrily, not wanting them to rebuild the wall that she had broken through. Lifting her chin, he gazed into those lovely brown eyes, and kissed a tear from her cheek, kissing his way to her mouth. Claiming her mouth hungrily, he shuddered as he felt her return his kiss with the same urgency. Hands moving over each other intimately, they caressed and touched each other desperately, etching the feel in their minds, knowing that this was the last day they could be like this. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her over the sofa.  
  
------  
  
As they lay on the sofa, Remus threw the thin coverlet over their sweaty bodies as he hugged Hermione close. She laid her head on his chest, feeling his still racing heart beneath her cheek.  
  
Not wanting to break the content silence they fell into, Hermione knew she must ask.  
  
"Will you be staying at Hogswart, then, when we go back?"  
  
"Afraid not. Severus' visit was twofold. The Order has a matter they wish me to attend to. I am sorry." She could hear the pain in his voice.  
  
"Just wishful thinking on my part," disappointment clear in her words.  
  
"It probably would not be wise, even if it was possible for me to spend time at Hogswart. I could not be around you and not let my feelings show."  
  
"What feelings are those?" she asked quietly  
  
Pulling her face up to look at him, he kissed her lightly. "That I love you."  
  
Her eyes brightened as she threw her arms around his neck. "I love you," she said shyly.  
  
Those simple words shot fire through him and he kissed her deeply, hungrily once more.  
  
Hands caressing and guiding her movements, he stared intently at her, never breaking his gaze, even as he lifted her hips to settle around his. Her desire increased to a new level from that penetrating look, which seemed more intimate than their lovemaking.  
  
----  
  
"Hermione, we really should get ready to go," he said trying to keep his tone light.  
  
"I think I will just stay here, thanks," she mumbled not wanting to leave his warm embrace  
  
He smiled. "Alright, though I think you should be the one to explain to Severus why he had to return to collect us."  
  
"Oh, that is not funny Remus," she said, biting him on the chest.  
  
No, he thought soberly, not funny at all, wondering what repercussions would follow after Snape told Dumbledore about his suspicions. He wasn't worried about himself, only Hermione, not wanting anything to mar this time she had spent with him.  
  
"Okay, if you want to play rough," he growled, as he ran his hand down her side finding the ticklish spot below her ribs that he had discovered last night. He tickled her mercilessly as she laughed and protested. Finally he stopped, giving her a swift kiss and a swat on the bottom. "Miss Granger, I really must insist we pack and," looking down at her arching his eyebrows and grinning slyly, "get decent."  
  
Still smiling, though sober, she reluctantly got to her feet, pulling on her bathrobe. Taking his hand they went upstairs to pack.  
  
----  
  
Dressed in her schools robes, and he in his tattered ones, they stood by the door of the cottage. She looked around the room, taking in every memory she would take with her. Moving behind her, he encircled her with his arms.  
  
"Regrets?"  
  
"Never."  
  
Taking his arm they walked silently through the gate. He turned to look at her, her face radiant in the moonlight. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers. They kissed slowly, sweetly, lingeringly.  
  
"Si ce soit un reve, donc cedez a mon ame, pour que mon amour et moi-meme soient unis dans un sommeil sans fin." He murmured as he pulled away.  
  
She looked at him quizzically. Smiling at her, he put his finger to her lips. They Disapparated into the night.  
  
Fini  
  
Seigneur, que ces mortels sont fous!  
  
--------------------  
  
"Si ce soit un reve, donc cedez a mon ame, pour que mon amour et moi-meme soient unis dans un sommeil sans fin." - If this be a dream, then my soul indulge, so my love be one with me in endless sleep.  
  
Seigneur, que ces mortels sont fous- (grins impishly) I am not saying but this: this is the most often quoted line from A Midsummer's Night Dream by William Shakespeare. 


End file.
